Trapped
by Bellatrix-Breezy
Summary: She resisted at first, then fell into him like he had a gravitational pull on her – which, deniably, he kind of did.
1. Better Late Than Never

**Title:** Trapped  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana  
**Rating:** M, for later chapters.  
**Word count: **2,277  
**Warnings: **Language, Teen pregnancy, & Mentions of abortion.

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"Noelle, honey, stop." Santana was trying her very best to apply mascara to her thick, lined eyelashes while at the same time, staring at her daughter in the mirror.

The two-year-old playfully tapped her Barbie dolls against the books spread out on the bed in front of her, as though they were a set of drums. She continued making her music, the one gene Santana wished she hadn't picked up.

The loud banging was about to drive Santana to tears, making her makeup attempt completely pointless. She gave up after touching up her upper lid with a black liner, then threw the pencil angrily onto the vanity.

"Santana," Her mom says from the door.

"I'll be down in a minute, mom." Santana answers, tightening her signature cheerio ponytail.

"No, sweety. The daycare just called. They had a gas leak last night and had to close for the day."

"But mom, I have to go to school. Who's gonna watch Noelle?"

"Well, I can't," Her mom snaps, "I have to go to work."

Santana restlessly puts a hand on her forehead. She glances at Noelle, who continues playing her 'drums'. Noelle looks back at her and frowns, "Mommy, my tummy hurts."

Knitting her eyebrows, Santana sighs. "I know, sweety, I'll get you some milk in a second."

"You'd better decide what to do. School in ten minutes." Her mom says before leaving the room.

This was definitely not the senior year Santana wanted. She thought she'd be living it up! Parties every night, hangovers at school, and making out with every guy at McKinley. But no, due to one careless night, and the accidental breakage of one faulty rubber shield, she's now faced with a dilemma no normal eighteen-year-old girl should go through.

She slings one strap of her backpack over her shoulder and lifts Noelle onto her hip. "Come on, sweetheart. Field trip time."

.

"Mr. Schue, I assume you got my written request to only stand front row, three people to the left whenever we do songs from RENT or Wicked?" The words came from one Kurt Hummel, as though they were such common and calm phrases. This surprised Will, who gaped at him, taken aback.

"Uh, no, Kurt, but… I guess if that's what you want, I'll tell our choreographer."

"Fantastic. Thanks, Mr. Schue."

Will shook his head in shame as he watched Kurt march back to his seat next to Mercedes. The entire glee club fooled around as they waited for rehearsal to begin. Puck, of course, picked at his guitar while Finn accompanied him on drums as they argued about their next song.

Mercedes, Quinn, and Kurt flipped through a ratty Cosmo and commented on every appealing outfit they were met with.

"Guys, come on, let's get started." Will laughed at Finn and Puck's argument as he tapped his sheet music on the piano to line them together.

Everyone went silent as Santana walked in, holding Noelle on her hip. She caught every curious eye on her and licked her lips. Through her pain, she tried her best to muster every ounce of hatefulness she could find. "What? Her daycare had a gas leak, my mom had to work, was I supposed to leave a two-year-old home alone? Be realistic."

"Um," Will quickly walked up to Santana and whispered so the others couldn't hear, "Santana, I don't think a high school is an appropriate place for a toddler."

"What was I supposed to do, Mr. Schue?" Santana whispered back, "I couldn't leave her stranded at home. She's just a baby."

"Mommy, I'm hungry." Noelle cooed, tightening her grip around Santana's neck.

"Okay, baby, I'll get you some crackers. Just give me a minute, okay?" The eighteen year old complied, setting the toddler on the linoleum floor and straightening out her tiny sundress. "Go play with Aunt Brittany."

As Santana struggled to get the animal crackers out of her backpack, Will added, "Isn't there someone else who can watch her? Like Ms. Pillsbury?"

"I tried, she has a parent-teacher conference." After successfully pulling the small package from her bag, she sighed, "Look, Mr. Schue, I didn't ask for this to happen. But it did, and I'm dealing with it the best I can."

"All I'm saying is…"

Santana cut him off, "I know, Mr. Schue. Look, give her about ten minutes and she'll be out like a light. She was up all night, so I know she's sleepy."

Will paused, contemplating whether or not he should allow this. He inhaled a toxic breath and let it out in a sigh, "Okay."

"Thanks so much," Santana flashed him a warming 'thank-you' smile before turning away from him and walking over to where her daughter sat next to her best friend. Noelle's tiny arms reached up to grab the small package out of Santana's grasp.

"What's Noelle doing here?" The dim seventeen-year-old blonde asked innocently.

"Did you not just hear me?"

Brittany glanced around the room, before whispering, "No."

"Ugh," Santana's eyes rolled to the back of her head, "Her daycare closed down for the day and I had nobody to watch her."

"What about Finn's mom?" Brittany asked delicately, shifting her shining hazel eyes toward the drum player, who was listening intently to Will's instructions that both Santana and Brittany were ignoring.

As Santana's eyes made their way to Finn, a premonition of the past developed in her mind.

_Two years ago._

"Santana!" Hearing her name fall from his lips only made the sixteen-year-old cheerleader walk faster. She was in absolutely no mood to speak to him. This _was_ all his fault, after all.

His speed quickened, and he caught her elbow to end her fast-paced walking. He spun her around to face him, and an immense scowl erupted on her round, delicate face.

"Are the rumors true?" He asked breathlessly, and she snatched her arm from his grasp.

"Yes, Finn, you _are_ an idiot. I'm glad you finally caught on, though." With that, she turned away. But her attempt at ignorance was unsuccessful as Finn had caught her by the arm once more.

"Not _those _rumors," He snapped, "You know what I mean."

Santana's chocolate gaze scanned his face for even just a pint-sized amount of compassion, but was left disappointed, as she saw nothing.

His drum-stick calloused fingers clenched her creamy skin tighter, as if to pry the answer from her.

She took a deep breath and fought back the liquid stinging her eyes and angrily trying to break past them. She refused to look at him, and only traced figures from the texture on the wall beside her. She shrugged, biting her lip and immediately he knew the answer.

He let out a sharp breath and released his clutches on her. He staggered back, completely overwhelmed by this news. All of a sudden, he felt his throat closing, his knees becoming weak, his breath hitching.

Santana blinked away the tears fogging up her deep brown eyes, and reached for his hand. "Finn, it's okay. I'm gonna get rid of it."

He was immediately snapped into reality, "What? No! No, you're not!"

"Excuse me?" She breathed, shocked at the force in his words.

"No, you can't just… get _rid _of it." He spat out the words as though they were trash, "It's not just a piece of garbage you can just get rid of. It's a baby…" He whispered out the last word, so the passerby's couldn't hear.

"Yeah, I realize that, Finn, but… it's not something I want to deal with at this point in my life. It's just… keeping it isn't an option, and after seeing Quinn be completely devastated over giving Beth up, adoption isn't an option either. I'm left with one choice, and I'm doing it with or without your approval. I know somewhere in that pea-sized brain of yours is someone who understands. You don't have to agree with it, but please understand it."

"Fine," He spat, "Do whatever you want. It's not like my say means anything, anyway."

"Finn!" Santana called after him as she watched him angrily walk away. She looked down at the white sneakers adorning her feet and felt as though the entire hallway had become empty.

"That's just… not an option." Santana said softly, answering Brittany's touchy question.

"Mommy," Noelle looked up from her spot on the slick floor at Santana's feet, identical eyes met. "Can I play?"

"No, honey, just eat your crackers, okay?"

"But I wanna play," Noelle whined loudly, causing a stir in the classroom. Will, in midsentence, stops to look in her direction. Noelle began pounding her tiny fists into the linoleum and whining, causing a loud disruption for the class. Santana's hands flew to her face in embarrassment.

"Santana," Will said sternly, "Can you get that under control, please?"

"I'm trying, Mr. Schue," Santana informed, desperately trying to hush the child.

"Finn!" Brittany yelled out carelessly, jolting everyone alert. Santana glared daggers into Brittany, and she sat back innocently, "All I'm saying is, Finn used to sing to her when she was a baby, right? Well, he could…" Her soft, timid voice stopped at Santana's angry scowl.

"Finn," Will suggested, and Finn's mouth hung slightly open.

Swinging the tiny black-haired girl onto her hip, Santana stepped down onto the cold floor. "She just needs a nap. Can I put her down in the band room?"

Will smiled sympathetically, "Of course."

"Thanks." Santana breathed as she headed towards the connecting band room door.

"Finn, you go, too."

"But, Mr. Schue, I…" The disconcerted teenager attempted to reason, but was cut off quickly.

"Finn." Will warned sternly.

Finn's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slammed his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and dragged his feet toward the band room's door, which Santana had already entered.

As soon as the heavy door was closed, Finn's breath hitched. The room was dark and smelled of nothing but wood and sweat. He was sure this was the place all the couples at McKinley came to fool around during their free periods. He felt around on the wall for a light switch, and flipped the knob upwards once he found it.

Santana rushed over to his whereabouts quickly and slammed the knob back down.

"Don't!" She slapped his hand as though he were a child. "The lights'll keep her up."

It took a moment of rapid excessive blinking before Finn's eyes adjusted to the darkness. He saw that Santana had laid Noelle on top of a presentation table, with a tiny pillow and blanket he figured she keeps in her diaper bag.

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Santana said as loud as she could in a firm whisper.

Finn stammered, "Uh… Mr. Schue, he wanted me to… come help."

Santana scoffed rudely, "Well, better late than never."

He rolled his eyes at her negativity, "Are you gonna stop being so rude about it? I mean, really."

"Shh!" She snapped, then sighed. "Look, I'm just saying there's not much you can do now. She's already two."

"Does she even know who I am?" He asked delicately, his eyes not leaving Santana's slowly softening facial features.

"Of course she knows who you are," The bitter cheerleader said harshly, folding her arms and turning away from him to see if her daughter had fallen asleep yet. It usually doesn't take Noelle but moments to fall asleep after she'd been put down; and once she's out, she's gone for hours. That's one of the many things Santana loved about her daughter. She rarely fussed, and only did when she was sleepy. Then, all you'd have to do is put her in a dark, quiet room (preferably with no arguing parents…) and she'd be out like a light.

Finn licked his lips nervously as he inched closer to his daughter, who slept remarkably the same way he did; one arm under a pillow, the other resting on her tiny abdomen, on her back with her head tilted to the side. He scanned over the two-year-old's facial features. He knew she had eyes that perfectly matched his own, dark brown and glistening with tints of gold near the pupil, for he was there when she first opened them. But this was the first time he'd seen her up close in months, and it was heart wrenching for him. Her hair was black and it shined just like her mother's, but it fell in tight curls like his mom's did naturally. Her skin was soft and bronze, her nose taking the exact same shape of Finn's.

Santana noticed him scanning over Noelle and she smiled timidly to herself; she hadn't realized he truly cared this much about her. Not enough to watch her sleep, nonetheless. Even Santana found that boring.

Finn's eyes never left Noelle's tiny frame. She was so small, so perfect. He couldn't believe that she was half his creation. The idea that he could've made something so beautiful baffled him. In that she looked so much like him, as well. She _is_ him. It just seemed like this moment was made to make him realize how much he wanted to be in this little girl's life. Up until now, when someone would mention Noelle to him, he'd just shrug the idea of her off.

Up until now, anytime he'd see Santana, he'd turn and walk in the other direction because he couldn't bear to look her in the eyes after everything he'd said and done.

Up until now, he'd been afraid to give this little girl the father he'd never had.

From now on, however, that's going to change.

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	2. I Blame Madonna

**Chapter Title:** I Blame Madonna.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana  
**Word count: **1,965  
**Warnings: **Language, teen clubbing.  
**Note: **I'm sorry it took so long to get this up. Enjoy!

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"Why does she keep making that noise?"

"She's a baby, Finn, they do that." Santana says sharply as she places a hand on the small of her sleeping daughter's back.

"I didn't make weird noises when I slept when I was a baby."

"How would you know if you were a baby?"

Touché.

Santana walked over to her vanity and picked up a pair of gold earrings. As she watched her reflection put them on, she thought.

It's been almost a week since Finn decided to actually try to be a father. She's surprised he's lasted this long.

Finn watched her as she examined herself in the mirror and flattened out the curve-hugging red dress she was wearing. Being the kind of guy he is, he's surprised he could contain himself. But this was the mother of his daughter, after all. If he couldn't respect any other girl, he had to respect her.

She swiped a stick of light pink gloss across her lips and smiled at her reflection.

"I can't believe you're going out, and I'm stuck babysitting."

"Well, Finn, when it's your kid, it's not babysitting, is it? It's _parenting._ I've done it the last two years – I think you can handle a few hours."

Finn wouldn't say another word; he knew not to test Santana. He just watched her walk away, leaving him stranded in her bedroom, their daughter laying with her head on his chest and her tiny arms clutching the soft fabric of his school hoodie. He let his head fall back against the headboard and listened to Noelle's soft breathing as he tried so desperately to ignore the sound of an engine igniting outside, and closed his eyes to not see the small car's headlights peeking through the cracks in the blinds of her bedroom window as it left the driveway.

This made him remember the Santana he didn't like.

The one who took his virginity – the promiscuous one.

He liked the fragile Santana. The one he remembered so faintly.

_Three months along._

Finn couldn't sleep. He'd tried every trick in the book; even the one where you're supposed to lay flat on your back and wiggle your toes. Nothing was working. He stared blankly at the ceiling, and tried to make figures out of the texture.

He suspected his mom spent the night at the Hummel's. This was becoming a regular thing for her. Usually, she'd leave a note or something attached to the fridge. Then she'd leave about ten bucks for pizza. After a while, however, Finn had grown tired of pizza. How much pepperoni could one sixteen year old boy stand?

He threw the silky sheets off his body and sat up. He pressed his feet to the cold hardwood floor and ran a hand through his messy hair as he made his way down the hallway toward the stairs.

As if on cue, the doorbell was heard. Finn's eyebrows scrunched together as he stole a glance at the clock on the wall. Who the hell was visiting the Hudson house at 2 in the morning?

He groaned and inched closer to the door, ready to beat the hell out of a burglar or whatever.

He positioned himself cautiously before maliciously yanking the door open. He paused, then let out the intense breath he was holding.

"Santana," He breathed, "What are you doing here?"

"My mom found out." Was all she had to say.

"How?"

"I left my diary unlocked."

"That's— wait, you have a diary?"

Santana let out a sharp sigh and brushed past him, walking into his cozy living room. Finn closed the door and followed her as she inched closer to the sofa. "I don't face the same façade I have at school, Finn. I don't have anyone to talk to. My mom's a drunken, irritable shell of a woman and won't listen to a word I have to say. A diary is the only outlet I have."

"Am I in it?" Finn felt a smirk tug at his lips.

"You're the one who put me in this mess, aren't you?" She said, shrugging her folded arms. "Anyway… my mom told me not to come back until she'd managed to ingest the news. I would've gone to Brittany's, but her mom doesn't allow friends over past nine. And honestly, anywhere in the world is better than Puck's. His mom always tries to feed me random Jewish shit."

"So, you came here because…"

"Because… I don't know. You're the first person I thought of."

Both teens were silent. Santana felt pressure in her stomach, like a popcorn kernel just popped inside her, and her folded arms released so she could press a palm to her slightly bulging abdomen.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked delicately, stepping toward her.

"I'm fine," she reassured him, "Just a little kick."

"They can do that this early?"

"I'm twelve weeks, Finn." Santana looked everywhere but at him.

"It's really been that long," he says as more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, I guess." She stammers softly. "Still don't think it meant anything?" She smirks, her intentions clear to make him feel guilty for what he said that night.

"How many times are you gonna reference that? I'm sorry I said that. I just… kinda wished it was with—"

"Don't even finish that sentence." She snapped, "Believe me, I know the feeling." She brushed past him again, and he blinked a couple times to try and figure out what she meant. He shrugged, then watched her delicately sit down onto black leather sofa.

Giggling, she jokingly added, "I blame Madonna."

He returned her laugh, realizing what she meant.

Her heart sunk. "Mr. Schue took me to the doctor yesterday. He's healthy." She muttered, barely above a whisper.

Finn stood quietly, all that could be heard was the clock ticking on the wall beside him. He finally spoke, very softly, "How can you be so sure it's a boy?"

A smirk pulled the corners of her mouth upright. "So, you're saying you want a girl?"

He fought the urge to say, 'I don't want _anything._'

Santana somehow took his silence as a hint. She looked down, and played with her fingernails nervously in her lap. "Do you think your mom would care if I crashed here tonight?"

"No," he said honestly, "She let Quinn stay here when she had to."

She was in no mood to talk about Quinn. Or anybody else, for that matter. He took the hint, and said the first thing that came across his mind, "What's the weirdest thing about being—"

She reached up and tucked a stray strand of thick black hair behind her ear, then shrugged her shoulders. "I guess, knowing that wherever I'm walking… I'm always taking someone with me. That's stupid, but it's the weirdest feeling. I'm never alone, y'know?"

Stupid question. Of course he didn't know. He was a _guy._

Awkward silence filled the room once again, and Finn let his eyes focus on anywhere but her. He decided on the wall, and his eyebrows scrunched together as he wondered where his mother had bought those ugly curtains.

Yikes. He'd been spending way too much time with Kurt.

Mentally laughing at himself, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants and finally rested his eyes on Santana, who was crying slightly as she stared at the floor. Once he comprehended this, he instinctively rushed over to her and fell onto the couch, pulling her off the armrest and into his lap.

She clung to him as though her life depended on it, and, although he felt he really couldn't do or say anything besides just holding her and letting her cry her feelings out, he couldn't help but feel tears welling up in his own eyes, as he just sat there in the quiet room – aside from Santana's soft, quiet sobs – with his family. Yeah, family.

Noelle stirred.

She shifted in his lap and lifted her head from his chest. Her shiny brown eyes sparkled as she glanced around the room, then up to Finn, "Where's mommy?"

Finn gulped; was there a right answer to this?

"Mommy went out for a while." He said softly. Noelle pouted, and Finn had a mini-heart attack. What was he supposed to do? "Are you hungry? I'll make you some spaghetti." He said dryly, and instantly Noelle lit up.

Santana flashed the bouncer her ID, and he let her past the velvet rope. She stepped inside the strobe lit dance club, and winced as the sound of rave music pounded against her ear drum. She stood at the door for a moment, looking around for her friends. Before she could even take a step, she felt a vibrating sensation between her breasts and groaned when she realized what it was. Pulling her cell phone out of her bra, she glared at the screen and read what it said.

_From: Finn.  
Can toddlers have meatballs?_

Santana's eyes narrowed as she quickly typed back a response.

_To: Finn.  
How can Noelle be such a smart little girl when her dad is so fucking stupid?_

He didn't reply – she couldn't blame him. Why is she such a bitch to him?

"Santana!" She heard the chipper voice of her best friend and immediately spun around with her famous grin.

Brittany leaned to one side, "I can't believe you're here! Where's Noie?"

"With Finn," she choked out, "I figured I needed at least one night of fun. I haven't been here since Noelle was six months old. How's it been?"

"Great," Brittany replied as the two girls started walking, "…I think. Anyway!"

Santana laughed childishly at her friend's denseness. She felt her phone vibrate in her hand and rolled her eyes, "Why won't he just leave me alone?"

"Who?" Brittany asked curiously, leaning over Santana's shoulder to read what the message has to say.

Santana stood silent as she realized why it took Finn a full five minutes to reply.

_From: Finn._

_Okay, whatever. I kept this in long enough. I didn't wanna say it in front of Noelle, but you're a whore, Santana. You have a fucking daughter and right now you're off riding some random guy you picked up at a dance club? Are you crazy? Yeah, that's fine. Leave me with our kid. This is why we're not friends. If it weren't for Noelle, I'd have absolutely nothing to do with you. Grow up, Santana. I have, now it's your turn._

Brittany quietly gasped, "Oh, my God." She looked at Santana, and tried to ignore the water she saw filling up the brims of her eyes. "Santana, he didn't mean that. He's just mad."

Santana shushed Brittany and turned toward the door. She mumbled something about taking a walk, and made her way through the crowd. Brittany stood there helpless, looking around aimlessly.

Santana brushed past the thick crowd and threw herself into the heat of the night. All that could be heard was her heels clicking against the hard pavement as she made her way to her tiny Honda. She dug for her keys in her handbag, all the while trying to blink away the tears clouding up her vision. As she slid into the driver's seat, she angrily slammed the keys into the ignition, and brought the car to life. Resting her forehead on the steering wheel, she sobbed to herself. How the hell could he say those things to her? She fucking lov-.

She just… doesn't understand how he could intentionally be so hurtful. There weren't many things left to think. With that in mind, she put the car in gear and sped out of the parking lot.

So much for a happy fucking family.

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	3. Miserable At Best

**Chapter Title:** Miserable At Best.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana, mention of Finn/Rachel (if you squint hard enough.)  
**Word count: **1,622.  
**Warnings: **Language, Mild Sexual Content.  
**Note: **I realize this is kind of shorter than normal, but I thought it was pretty satisfying.

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_"The hardest part is letting go of the nights we shared. Ocala is calling, and you know it's haunting. But compared to your eyes, nothing shines quite as bright."_

Santana reached down and turned up the radio – she loved this song. As she blinked the tears from her blurry eyes, she tried intently to focus on the deserted road stretched out in front of her, but the slow music falling from the speakers of her car were enough to distract her from driving. She almost missed her street, and only knew it by the dimly lit street light beaming down onto the road, revealing the street sign.

She pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. After taking a few deep, cleansing breaths, she opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, locking it behind her. She made her way slowly up the lawn and onto the stoop. Through her foggy eyes, she managed to find her house key and shoved it into the keyhole, prying the door open.

Flipping on the light switch, she stepped into the living room and immediately, the aroma of spaghetti violated her nostrils and she cringed at the smell. She locked the door behind her, remembering her mom telling her that she was working the night shift and wouldn't be home until morning.

She reached for the wall to hold for support as she took her heels off, then ran a hand through her tired hair as she made her way up the carpeted stairs. As she inched down the hallway, she took a peek inside Noelle's nursery – she was sound asleep in her crib. Santana leaned against the door frame and smiled softly as she listened to the quiet chimes coming from the animal mobile hanging above her daughter's head.

She quietly backed away, and tiptoed across the hall into her own room, shutting the door behind her so any random noise made won't wake Noelle.

"Oh good," she heard a voice and it startled her, "You're home."

She dropped her keys on the dresser beside the door and threw down her shoes by the closet. "Don't talk to me," she grimaced, "Just leave."

"Why should I leave?" Finn asked softly, throwing down the magazine he was reading and sliding off Santana's bed. "So you can go out again?"

"Shut up, Finn," she snapped, "You don't know anything. All I wanted was one night with my friends! I had no intention of hooking up with _anyone_ tonight! I just wanted to have fun!"

"That's bullshit," he remarked sharply.

"Excuse me?" She breathed, in shock.

"You heard me." He folded his arms angrily across his chest and glared into her soft eyes.

"I don't have time for this. I just wanna go to bed." She moved past him, purposely bumping into him on the way. She closed her eyes as she began unzipping the back of her dress, then gasped when she opened them and realized Finn was still watching her. She spun around and pointed toward the door, "Out!"

Finn turned to leave, but stopped abruptly and spun back around, "No."

"What?" Santana shouted, holding the top of her dress to her chest so it wouldn't fall, "This is my room!"

He marched up to her, ready to yell his feelings out, but stopped as he noticed something soft. "Santana, have you been crying? Your eyes are all red and puffy."

Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked down at the ground, "No! I just… had a few drinks tonight, that's all."

The room was filled with awkward silence.

"You're lying," he snapped, and she looked up at him, "I can tell. Why were you crying?"

Santana mentally cursed herself for not touching up her makeup while in the car. She inhaled sharply.

Finn thought for a moment, then suddenly, it hit him. "Me? I made you cry?"

"Just get out of my room, please."

"No!" he nearly shouted, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Finn, just please leave." She exhaled a deep breath and shifted her weight, "You were mad, I understand, but I'm not that person anymore. Why don't you get that?"

She backed away from him – the space between them made her uncomfortable.

"I do get that, I just…" he paused, searching for the right words to say, "…something about the thought of you with someone el—"

"Don't pull that chivalry shit with me, Finn. You're not fooling anyone. Like you said, you wouldn't have anything to do with me if it weren't for Noelle."

"That's not true," he reassured her, but realized he may be lying. Actually, if it weren't for the night Noelle was conceived, he'd probably still be with Rachel.

_Two years ago._

_"In the still of the night, I held you, held you tight. 'Cause I love, love you so, promise I'll never let you go."_

A dimly lit candle burned in the corner of the room while the radio calmly belted out a soft, slow rhythm. After searching forever, Finn realized the only radio station this greasy motel picked up was an oldies station. Great.

Granted, this was much more fancier and 'first-time-ier' than the 'Like A Virgin' dream sequence he'd had while mentally preparing himself in the bathroom a few minutes earlier.

"I wish you'd stop pacing," a toned voice shook him out of his deep concentration, "It's making me dizzy."

"Sorry," He muttered gruffly, shaking the dark green robe off his shoulders and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

Santana swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up straight, "Look, if you don't wanna do this you don't have to. You can go back to McKinley a virgin for all I care. All we need to do is tell everyone we fucked, so people will stop calling you 'Finnocence' and I'll be captain of the cheerios."

"No one calls me Finnocence but you." He remarked with slit eyes, then sat down beside her.

"Point taken." She chuckled, "But if we're not gonna do this, let me know 'cause I have to return this silky dressy thingy to my mom's lingerie drawer before she gets home."

Finn wouldn't say anything, and Santana felt that it was all up to her. I mean, she was thinking of _him,_ and _his_ future at McKinley. What kind of guy wants to go through high school a _virgin?_ Right? Exactly.

She took his silence as his answer, and let out the disappointed breath she didn't know she was holding in. She stood up off the bed and he grabbed her forearm when he realized what she was doing. "Stop," He said sharply, digging his fingernails nervously into her creamy, tanned skin.

Santana's eyes questioned him, and he pulled her by the arm closer to him.

_"So before the light, hold me again – with all your might."_

Santana and Finn both ignored the music, but took in the lyrics subconsciously. She swung herself over him, straddling his lap, as his hands found their way to the small of her back.

He nervously barred his teeth into her bare shoulder, brushing off the strap that lay limp on her shoulder. She knitted her fingers in his loose hair, tilting her head to the side to allow him better access.

His tongue traced her collar bone as he inched his way up to her neck, digging his fingertips into her hips.

A light moan escaped her throat as she felt his teeth leave tiny bite marks in the soft skin of her neck.

"What happened to letting me be in control?" She breathily choked out.

He grunted in response, a muffled sound buried in the crook of her neck. Santana refused to admit to herself that she's completely turned on. With all her heart, she truly believes she's doing this only for the spot of head cheerio – and to impress Coach Sylvester with her 'cougar-ness' like Madonna.

Right. This is for Madonna.

But she swears to God, if he changes his mind after going this far and leaves her stranded in this motel room, she'll fucking kill him.

Girls can get blue balls, too, you know. Well, not technically, but… still.

.

Finn found a strange satisfaction in Santana's erratic breathing, and used it as an excuse to lift her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let out a small yelp as her back roughly hit the wall.

His lips crashed onto hers forcefully while his calloused fingers trailed along her outer thigh, pushing the thin, silky material upwards.

Santana rolled her head back in ecstasy, the amount of heat this was causing astounding her.

"It is true!" she shouted back, "You said it! God, Finn, you can be so stupid sometimes!"

"Me? I can be stupid? You're the one…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Santana blinked away the water welling up in her eyes, and stared at a spot on the floor.

Finn didn't know what to do when he saw that she was crying again, he rarely ever dealt with crying girls. Most of the time, he'd make up an excuse and leave.

But not with Santana.

He couldn't leave her here – he'd hate himself forever.

So, instinctively, he stepped closer to her and pulled her into his arms. She resisted at first, then fell into him like he had a gravitational pull on her – which, deniably, he kind of did.

Finn knew better than to speak. Instead, he just held her while she cried; just like he had done several times before.

She clung onto the thin material of his hoodie and inhaled his scent, the best smell she'd ever known, and waited for the tears to stop.


	4. Nowhere To Go But Crazy

**Chapter Title:** Nowhere To Go But Crazy.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana, Puck/Quinn.  
**Word count: **2,741  
**Warnings: **Language, Verbal Abuse, Intense Make-out Session.  
**Note: **I just broke the rule to myself! I was originally gonna have a flashback in every chapter of either before or during Santana's pregnancy, but I just couldn't find a place for one in this chapter. Oh well! Enjoy.

.

They're the only ones sitting in the choir room. Puck is sleeping on one of the risers, his head resting on his backpack as he snores audibly from his spot. It's awkward to say the least, as they refuse to speak to each other. Finn speaks first, very softly. "So I was thinking,"

"I'm happy for you, Finn, you finally started doing what other people have been doing all their lives." She remarks rudely.

Being used to it, Finn does nothing but clear his throat and proceed, "I was thinking that, y'know, since my mom kind of moved in with the Hummels… I have a lot of room at my house."

"You want me and Noelle to come live with you?" She finished for him, annoyed at his stalling.

He remained silent – his heart pounding anxiously for her reaction.

All he got was a shrug as she turned back to her magazine, "I'll think about it."

A crooked smile crossed Finn's lips as he set back in his seat and stared in front of him.

Santana leaned forward and reached for the backpack that sat neatly under her chair. She dug through it momentarily before pulling out a small composition notebook. She opened up to the most recent empty page and clicked her pen.

_I know I'm like, practically committing social suicide by bringing my journal to school now, but ever since Finn decided to be more involved in Noie's life, I've been more… I dunno, childlike._

_Yes, it sounds fucking retarded, I'm aware. But honestly… who gives a shit? Yes. Santana Liliana Lopez has gone soft. Even post baby, I was still perfectly bitchy at school – but then, when Finn's around… I just get all weird. I'm like some estranged school girl._

_Ew! Like Rachel Berry._

_You remember me telling you about Berry, right Journal? The one who wears knee socks to cover up her gross unshaven legs? The girl who thinks Disney movies send a bad message? Yeah, her._

_She sickens me. It's terrifying._

_Speaking of Berry, here she comes now. Ew. Who told her that she could wear a pink shirt with a red skirt? I'm sorry, but no. Her shoes are kind of cute, though. All strappy and pretty. Wait! What am I talking about? It's Rachel. She couldn't even pull off a cheerio uniform. Which, let's face it, only Brittany & I can do that._

_But whatever. Back to what I was saying, the subject of my childish innocence wants me to move in with him. Granted, he wants Noie with him, too. But whatever, you get the idea. Oh, God, I can just imagine what all the glee freaks are gonna think when they find out! Well, that is, if I take the offer._

_What's the harm, right?_

Santana slammed her composition book shut and thought momentarily as her last written sentence floated about in her mind. A thousand 'what-if's circled around her, but she ignored them and quickly scribbled a note signed in her calligraphy. She nudged Quinn, who sat beside her, and whispered, "Tell Puck to give this to Finn."

"Why don't you give it to him?" The quirky blonde replied subtly.

Santana's features dropped into a 'duh' expression, "Because. I don't want everyone in this room to know about what's written in the note. If people see Puck give it to him, they'll think it's probably just the new football game schedule or something. But if they see _me_ give it to him, a million rumors will fly around this school as fast as slushies do. Get it?"

Quinn only rolled her eyes – not that she feels superior or anything, but after all she's been through, she really feels that she's too grown up to deal with immature things like this. Honestly, why would Santana care what people at McKinley think about her and Finn's relationship? They know Santana slept with Finn, they know that Santana got pregnant, they know that Noelle is Finn's daughter, they know that Finn is starting to act like a father, they know that Finn has been staying at Santana's… what could honestly be in this note that nobody doesn't already know?

Shrugging at her thoughts, Quinn placed the tightly folded up paper on her boyfriend's knee, then whispered, "Don't read it. Give it to Finn."

"What is it?" Puck replied, taking the note between his fingers and eyeing it curiously.

"A grilled cheese sandwich, what does it look like? It's a note! Give it to Finn."

"Alright, alright," Puck reasoned, "You're lucky you're pretty."

Before any transactions could be made, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Finn jolted up and was the first out the door, eager to get home.

Santana followed suit, hurrying so she wouldn't be late to pick up Noelle from daycare.

Will told the class he had to go talk to Principal Figgins, but they all knew he was going to see Emma.

Quinn, Kurt and Mercedes had made dinner plans, so they were next, which left Puck, Rachel, Tina, Artie and Mike. Brittany was absent that day. Something about her cat giving her the flu.

Puck was putting books into his backpack as he shoved the note into his back pocket. Unfortunately, he missed and it went tumbling to the floor.

"Noah," Rachel perked up from her spot going over music with Brad at the piano, "You dropped something!" She rushed over and picks it up.

Puck slings one strap of his backpack over his shoulder and knits his eyebrows, "Oh, yeah. Quinn told me to give that to Finn. Hey, since you live down the street from him, can you give it to him? Thanks." With that, he merely brushed past her without a response.

Rachel stood in silence. Should she read it? What on Earth could Quinn have to say to Finn? Well, after the whole baby fiasco, it _should_ ethically be an apology, right? She tapped the tight paper on her wrist as she heavily thought about her options. She could quickly open it, skim the note, then fold it perfectly as it was before. But should she choose to do that, she risks knowing something she shouldn't. Or, she could do the right thing and not snoop. She could just give the note to Finn when she gets home. But! If she does that, she'll miss out on knowing something that very well might be life-changing.

She glanced around the room – no one's looking. She might as well.

Rachel sighed audibly. This is like a game of 'he loves me/he loves me not' with a daisy picked from her backyard. Should I read it? Should I not? Should I read it? Should I not?

_Yes. I'm gonna read it. I have to read it. What if it's about me?_ She thought, before unmercifully opening the note. She excitedly traced her eyes over the beautiful calligraphy in freshly printed blue ink.

_Finn,_

_I thought about what you said. If that's what you want, and if you're sure that's best for us, then my answer's yes._

_Call me as soon as you read this._

._  
_

"Nothing you confess could make me love you less. I'll stand by you; won't let nobody hurt you."

Santana stood in the doorway, leaning contently against the doorframe. She'd just walked by, drawn into the dimly lit bedroom by Finn's singing voice, as Noelle laid her head against his shoulder, still softly crying. She admired his paternal instincts – the way he ultimately knew exactly what to do, how she always liked her back patted while she cried.

Noelle never took a liking to Santana's singing. It was always, daddy daddy daddy.

She didn't take offense to it – the girl was only two.

Santana was just happy she found a way to keep the girl quiet.

Once Finn had Noelle settled in her crib, he inched quietly toward the door.

"She still upset about her time-out?" Santana whispered, smiling softly.

Finn shrugged, "She'll be alright. That'll teach her to bite."

Santana giggled as Finn closed the door and they stepped into the hallway. She was surprised they were getting along after everything they pretended like they were ignoring. Finn followed Santana into her bedroom, ready to ask a question he'd always been hesitant to bring up. "Hey,"

"Yes?" She eyed him curiously as she sat cross-legged on her bed and began folding clothes.

"How did you come up with the name Noelle?"

The light blue tank top fell out of Santana's hands and landed in her lap. She sighed and thought for a moment, "Hm – it was… I don't remember, really."

He leaned against the wall, making his point known that he wasn't leaving until he knew. It was his right, after all.

She let out a breath, "Okay. Without you there, I have to admit. I was… terrified beyond reason." She gulped hard, then ran a hand through slightly damp hair as she continued, "I mean, my mom was there, that was nice, but… it wasn't the same, y'know? Anyway. After she was born, I kept saying in my head, _'It would be so perfect if your father was here.'_, but you never came."

Finn looked down.

Santana's voice heightened, "So! After holding her for a very long time and realizing you wouldn't be there to help, I settled on her name myself. I named her Noelle, because it means Christmas – and if you tell anybody I said this, I'll kill you – but she was my little gift. So it fit, y'know?" Finn mentally 'aww-ed' at the serene and pleasurable look on her face when she said that. You could tell, honest to God, that Santana would give up the world for that little girl.

"It took a while to decide on a middle name. Mom wanted something Hispanic, because it's a tradition in my family to have Hispanic middle names. After I stared into her beautiful brown eyes for a very long time, I just saw something inside her that screamed the name Adrianna – that was my grandma's name, and, ignoring you, Noie looks just like her."

Santana took a hesitant breath. She didn't know whether or not she should tell him the next part. All this time, he'd known differently from what she was about to tell him.

"And then Hudson."

Finn shot up attentively. "What? Hudson? I thought her last name was Lopez."

Santana slid off the bed, pressing her slippers into the carpet. "Yeah… socially. But legally, her last name is Hudson." She shrugged, folding her arms across her chest, "My mom thought I was crazy, but she needed your name."

Finn lit up inwardly, but would never show it on the outside. He was, admittedly, angry when he found this out. She'd basically been lying to him. "Why didn't you tell me." He said sternly, venom was clear in his eyes.

Santana's face softened. Why was he so upset about this? She knitted her eyebrows and looked off at the wall behind him, "I didn't want you to know."

"Why!"

Finn raised his voice, so Santana raised hers. Mirror is the best retaliation.

"Because! I didn't want you to feel like you had any obligations! I didn't want you to think I gave her your last name because I wanted to hint to you that you _needed_ to be involved. I just thought she needed your name!"

"Why!"

Santana scoffed, "Because!_ Porque Te amo y que necesitaba su nombre!_" She shouted, pushing a hand through her thick hair in exasperation. "You drive me so _crazy!_"

Finn knew very little about Santana, but he did know one thing for sure. She only shouts in Spanish when she's very angry and doesn't want to admit something in English. Being the kind of student he was – and we're talking the straight Ds on his Spanish report card – he had no idea what she'd said.

But he couldn't show weakness. He stiffened his upper lip and painfully watched as she angrily paced around, obviously annoyed and furious at his insensitivity.

She was ranting, and Finn was terrified she'd wake Noelle up. I mean, come on. He was running out of songs to sing! He licked his lips and shifted his weight, trying to find a spot on the wall to look at while she continued to pace around, ranting in a language that was, well, foreign to Finn.

"_Yo no sé por qué me ocupo de ti. No puedo soportarlo!_" She shouted, her hair now messy as hell – not just from the angry pacing, but mostly from her hands clenching chunks to release anger.

Finn folded his arms, "Santana." He breathed, eager to get her attention off of ranting about how she hates him. At least, that's what Finn assumed she was saying.

But no.

She still yelled, clenched her fists, furiously walking around. "Oh!" She finally stilled, and pointed a stiff finger at his face. "And you're the one mad at me? I should be _furious_ with you! You never returned my note!"

"Note? What note?"

"Don't play _stupid,_ Hudson. You know good and well what note. I gave it to Quinn to give to Puck to give to you. I bet you read it and threw it away! That's how fucking ignorant you are!"

Finn stalled. "I _never_ got a note!"

Santana couldn't breathe.

She huffed, sharply inhaling and exhaling. After she finally calmed down, she relaxed, "I wrote you a note in rehearsal yesterday. You… you asked me… if I wanted to mo—you asked me if Noelle and I wanted to move in with you." She trailed off, lost in thought.

Finn nodded, urging her to continue, admittedly eager for her answer.

"I said yes." She said, barely above a whisper.

Finn let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in.

"But I changed my mind! How can I _live_ with someone so ignorant and arrogant? I hate you! I seriously hate you! Sometimes I just want you to—"

Finn refused to let her being ranting again. Therefore, he stopped her the only way he knew how. He reached forward and grabbed her face tightly in his hands. Her mouth was still etched open from her screaming when he crashed his lips against hers.

_I'm only doing this to shut her up, _he told himself – but he was lying.

He knew that when he subconsciously let his tongue trace her lower lip.

Santana couldn't move – she was absolutely frozen stiff. She couldn't even fathom what was happening. One second she was yelling her feelings out, spewing venom in her daughter's father's face, the next minute she is kissing said daughter's father.

Finn's hand entangled itself in the hair in the back of Santana's head, eagerly pushing her face further into his.

Both of them feverishly fought for dominance, undoubtedly missing the feel of each other this close. The two of them inched backwards unsteadily until Santana's back landed hard down against her warm, unmade bed. Finn trailed his mouth down her neck as he hoisted her leg up on his waist and ran his rough palm against the bare skin of her thigh, slowly pushing the pleated cheerios skirt upward.

Just as his fingers found their way to the fabric of her spankies, a piercing child's cry erupted from the room across the hall. The teenagers instinctively broke apart, finally fully aware and in control of their actions.

They stared around the room for a moment, trying to catch their breath as they listened to Noelle's sobs – they avoided looking at each other.

"That's her daddy cry." Santana said once she finally caught her breath. Finn stared down at her dumbstruck. With a scoff, she pressed her tiny palms against Finn's chest, pushing him off of her.

She walked over to the vanity and tightened her ponytail, "You're lucky you didn't mess up my uniform. Coach Sylvester would kill us both." She told Finn's reflection.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he moved his body to sit correctly on the bed, deep in thought.

Santana leaned forward, resting her head against the mirror – glass to skin. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. "We can't let that happen again, okay?"

Finn only nodded, still swept up in his thoughts and regret – not to mention, the fact that his pants had magically become two sizes smaller these past few minutes…

"Yeah," He gulped. "Never again."

.


	5. Made To Be Broken

**Chapter Title: **Made To Be Broken  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana  
**Word count: **2, 962.  
**Warnings: **Language, depression, mild sexual content.  
**Notes: **I simply adore this chapter. It's too cute. You'll love it too, I promise!

.

Santana walks down the hallway with a broken hearted expression. She stares at the floor, unmercifully thinking of how different her life would be if it weren't for Noelle being born. She doesn't mean it negatively, of course, she loves Noelle. But that doesn't shield her thoughts.

She used to walk down these halls like a fierce canine. _Everyone_ feared her. Not even glee club diminished that. Granted, the cause of her downfall probably spun off of her cruelty toward one Quinn Fabray, for getting pregnant in high school – something everyone in her family looked down upon. Except, of course, for her mother… who had her in the ninth grade.

Entering her freshman year, Santana made a silent promise to herself. She refused to be another stereotype. She wasn't gonna the typical Latina to get pregnant during high school.

She freezes.

Here comes the guy who helped her break that promise.

She watches, as if in slow motion, as he slaps five with a random football player.

Suddenly, she feels sick. Her stomach churns as she runs into the nearest ladies' room. Realizing she doesn't have to puke, she simply walks over to the sink – clutching her abdomen – and splashes some cold water on her face.

As if on cue, the one and only Rachel Berry opens the door with a grin from her previous encounter flirting with Finn outside. She sees Santana, and her grin turns into a small smile. "Hey! I heard the news!"

A grimace finds Santana's face as she glares at the short brunette. "What news?"

"You and Finn are getting married!" She shouts excitedly.

Santana's face falls. "What! Where did you hear that!"

"Everyone's talking about it."

As Rachel smiles that goofy grin and spins to leave, the sick feeling deep in Santana's gut returns.

She groans and leans her back against the wall, sliding down the cold tile before finally resting her butt on the hard floor.

.

The days seem to get longer. Santana and Finn rarely spoke, only when they had to. Noelle wasn't used to seeing her parents not speaking – she'd been so content as to seeing them share her every day. Mommy _and _Daddy. Now, it was either Mommy _or_ Daddy.

They had a schedule.

Santana would pick her up from Finn's every Monday morning and take her to daycare, then go to school. Finn would then pick her up from daycare after school and take her to his house. She'd spend until 7 o'clock there, then Santana would pick her up and take her home. They alternated the days of which houses she spent the night at.

They only spoke when necessary.

Even if it was only a 'Hi' and a "Bye'.

The most Santana had said to him in two weeks was, "She has a little cold. There's some baby Tylenol in her bag."

The distance was killing them both, though they'd never admit it.

The marriage rumor wasn't helping their situation at school. Santana couldn't even count how many times people had offered her gifts and dress advice. All the while, she'd feel like punching them in the face.

"No one's getting married!" She'd tell them, then slam her locker and run off.

But no one listened. Quite the opposite, actually, in fact, they applauded her for wanting to be secretive about it.

This, of course, only made her angrier.

It had grown to the point where she felt _disgusted_ whenever she'd see _him._

It was repulsive to her how he just went around acting all happy and content – like nothing was wrong. It was as though he just didn't care.

They didn't speak until Friday night.

Finn adjusted the rearview mirror to focus on Noelle in her car-seat as he pulled onto the street Santana resided on. When Noelle saw his reflection, she giggled and bit the ear of the stuffed teddy her Aunt Brittany gave her.

Finn swallowed hard as he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

Santana stood on the porch and watched Finn's every move as he unbuckled Noelle from her car-seat. She leaned against one of the columns and folded her arms across her chest. Finn Hudson wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, everyone knew that, but he did know about some things. And being a father was definitely an expertise of his.

She thought this as he lifted Noelle high on his waist and held her with one arm while he grabbed her bags out of the trunk.

After locking his car, he walked up the stoop and faced Santana.

With a big, happy, childish smile, Santana reached her arms out for Noelle to latch onto, "Hey! Did you miss your Mama?" She cooed in a child-like voice as she lifted her daughter into her arms.

Finn grunted in annoyance before taking the bags inside.

Santana did nothing but roll her eyes and follow him.

He set the bags down on the sofa and turned to face Santana.

"Did she give you any trouble?" She asked as she flattened out Noelle's blue polka-dotted dress after setting her on the floor.

Finn crossed his arms, "Nope. Not a bit. She _likes_ being at my house."

"Why, because you don't discipline her when she does something wrong?" Santana spat, coldness dripping from her voice.

Finn's eyes turned to slits, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Santana only scoffed, "Nothing," she muttered under her breath as she took Noelle up the stairs.

Oh no, Finn wasn't giving up that easily.

The fact that Finn had followed her upstairs was fine, the fact that he'd followed her into Noelle's bedroom was okay, the fact that he'd now followed her into _her_ bedroom was _not_ okay. "You just don't give up, do you?" Santana said repulsively as she pointlessly and angrily began digging through the top drawer of her armoire. Finn stood behind her, breathing huskily. "What the hell do you mean I don't discipline her!"

"Finn, I've seen the way you act around Noelle. She does things wrong, and you don't do anything about it!" She spun around to face him, her wet hair pasting to her shoulder, "Maybe if you, maybe if you… smack her hand… or… or… give her a punishment! Don't let her play with her toys for fifteen minutes! Just something!"

"Are you telling me I don't know how to take care of my daughter?" He spat ferociously.

"Oh, gee, Finn, I don't know. Let me ask the full two year absence. You're such a _great_ father." With that, she turned on her heel to leave the room. She couldn't bear to stand in his disgusting presence any longer.

Before she could make her dramatic exit, Finn tightly grabbed onto her elbow and spun her around to face him. He huffed into her face, angrily staring into her eyes. Santana could practically feel the ice pouring out of his sharp voice, "You've _got_ to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" She blinked a few times, as though she'd forgotten where she was.

When Finn didn't answer her, she jerked her arm out of his grasp and shifted her weight, "Stop. Telling me. What. To do." She said angrily, pacing out her words.

Finn grinded his teeth as he peered down to the short brunette, "You can't keep doing this to me." The crack in his voice let Santana know that he was on the verge of tears. Her heart sunk; had she been such a bitch to him that it brought him to tears?

Finn reached his rough palm up to gently graze her soft, creamy cheek. "I'm going to kiss you now." he said monotonously, dipping his head closer to hers.

Santana's face fell and her gaze softened. Just before she closed her eyes, a vulgar memory cascaded in circles in her mind. She felt sick.

.

_The Latina couldn't even fathom how utterly repulsive the food her blonde counterpart was eating looked. As she lay on the cold examination table, she watched in disgust as Brittany shoved another peanut-butter-topped Twinkie into her mouth._

_"Ugh," she groaned, "How can you eat that without throwing up?"_

_The other Cheerio simply gazed absentmindedly at Santana. She took a breath before stating, "My throw up sometimes looks like gravy… but only when I eat mashed potatoes."_

_Santana let her numb hand fly to her mouth as she inwardly gagged. "That's nice, Brit."_

_Dr. Isybel soon after walked into the room and took his clipboard off the door. "So, your test came back negative – your baby doesn't appear to have any genetic deformities."_

_Her only reply was a sigh of relief._

_"Though, we couldn't run the full genetic screening without paternal consent. Is the baby's father in the picture at all?"_

_A pricking feeling struck Santana's heart as she swallowed the lump in her throat, "Uh… no."_

_Brittany innocently raised her hand and said monotonously, "I'm his submarine."_

_"Substitute."Santana corrected._

_"Substitute," Brittany echoed without missing a beat._

_"Well, that's a kind gesture, Ms. Pierce, but unless the father is deceased, we can't run a full test without his signature. Is there any way you can get a hold of him?"_

_"I can try."_

_…_

_The rain was chilling as it shot tiny bullets crashing onto the pavement outside of Lima's Planned Parenthood. The sky had turned a chilling grey as the sun had smothered beneath the dark clouds that were spewing venom down to Earth. Santana clutched her Northface jacket tighter to her body just to warm herself from icy drops of water collecting on her body._

_"Finn, you need to come down here!" She argued into the phone, trying her best to sound louder above the crashing thunder. She would have made this phone call in the lobby, but given her situation, she didn't want anyone to eavesdrop. She listened as Finn hatefully yelled back at her, which, in reality, only made her angrier. She practically spat into the phone as she cried, "They won't run a full diagnostic without your permission!"_

_Finn did nothing but yell back at her, but she could barely here him over the startling sound of the boisterous thunderstorm. It was at this moment she'd regretted not wearing pants. The silk maternity dress Quinn had given her was definitely not weather suitable._

_As Santana berated Finn through the wires, she'd managed to sprout tears. All she needed right now, was someone to sustain her – to comfort her in her suffering. Only one person could do that, and said person was now being unnecessarily vindictive._

_"You know what, Finn?" Santana's neck rolled as she unmercifully played the 'fault' card, "You put me in this mess, and you're not even gonna come down here and sign a simple piece of paper just so you'll know if your daughter has any brain deficiencies or whatever? That's so like you, Finn Hudson. You only care about yourself. Fine! Whatever!"_

_And with that, she slammed the phone shut. As tears began to stream from her eyes and mix with the atmospheric rain, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and slid her back down the rough brick wall behind her. She didn't care that any passerby nor people inside peering through the large window could see her, she just had to cry._

_As she finally opened her soaking eyes, she angrily glared up at the sky. Santana Lopez never turned to God, she'd never spoken to him, never prayed, anything. But just this once, she had but one question for him._

_"Why?" She coursed through gritted teeth, "Why me? What did I do!"_

_Her crying turned into piercing sobs as she buried face into the arms that rested on her enlarged abdomen. As she sobbed, she recalled one phrase her father had preached to her repeatedly as a young child:_

_'Sometimes, you just have to cry.'_

_._

Before Finn's lips had found hers, the memory jogged Santana to consciousness and she dodged his pleading mouth. She backed away from him until her back hit the door, which startled her already fidgeting form. She ran a hand through her hair as she let out a gasp, "Do you remember that, um, th- that time? Oh, God."

Finn eyed her curiously as she struggled to find the suitable words.

"That time we were… uh… I was pregnant. Six months… yeah, six months. It was, um, we were… I was at Planned Parenthood to get some tests done and… they couldn't do it unless you came and signed some papers."

Finn's heart sank – yeah, he remembered. He beat himself up about that for ages.

"You wouldn't even come." Her voice cracked as her face twisted into despair. Finn instinctively rushed to her, put his hand on the back of her head, and pulled her into his arms. That familiar scent Santana loved flooded her nostrils as she clung to the fabric of his shirt. After crying for a regrettably long time, she finally looked up at Finn who unmercifully towered over her.

Finn swiped his rough fingers over the tear-stained skin of her cheek, peeling off the strands of hair that stuck there. His comforting palm finally rested, cupping her cheek. She leaned into his hand, strenuously breathing hot air onto it.

He couldn't help himself. He tilted her chin up to face him and gently pressed his mouth against hers, eliciting a tiny whimper from the back of her throat.

Inside her head, Santana's conscience was going crazy. It screamed at her, 'No! No! No!'

But every piece of doubt shattered as soon as her dead landed on the pillow. Finn hovered above her, anxiously toying with the hem of her tightly fitted camisole.

She hungrily clawed at the back of his neck with one hand as she slipped her other into his t-shirt and let her fingers draw circles on the texture of his abs.

His mouth connected with the skin of her neck, lapping and nipping at the flesh. He gently raised his hand over her shoulder and pushed both straps down to her arms, while her hands rhythmically moved across the surface of his back.

"Finn," she breathed his name, pushing against his chest. He chased her eyes, questioning her motive.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, you're making it incredibly hard to be a bitch to you. And, let's face it. You have the IQ of a thumbtack."

This made Finn smirk as he stared at her soft, perfectly swollen lips. He ducked down to capture them with his own, but Santana dodged his actions and clutched onto his shoulders. "Read my lips, Finnessa. This… can't… happen."

"Daddy?" a tiny, innocent voice came from the door, and both teenagers whipped their heads around to locate the source.

"Noie, how did you get out of your crib?" Santana exclaimed sharply after shoving Finn off of her.

The toddler clutched Aunt Brittany's teddy bear closer to her body and hugged it as she swayed side to side and said, "I climbed."

Finn chuckled as he rolled off the bed and playfully strutted toward his daughter.

Both Santana and Noelle giggle as Finn sweeps the younger Latina up and throws her over his shoulder, making monster noises as he runs with her down the hall. All the while, Noelle has exploded into a fit of giggles as she beats her tiny palms against Finn's upper back.

They make it to her nursery, and Noelle is returned to her safe haven. As she clings onto the bars of the crib, her small head peaking over the brim, Finn bends to conform to her level, "Alright, Kiddo, no more creeping out of bed, got it?"

Noelle nods innocently.

"Alright." Finn confirms, then presses a chaste kiss to her forehead. Immaculately, Noelle throws her tiny arms over Finn's neck and kisses his cheek, "I love you, Daddy."

This is the first time Finn has heard that. Euphoria courses through his veins as he fights back the lump in his throat. After Noelle lays down and hugs her stuffed bear, Finn reaches down and pulls the soft blanket over her arms. "I love you, too, Kiddo."

He shuts the door to blockade any crude noises, then stands in the hallway bewildered, staring at the ceiling. He takes a moment to free his eyes of the salty liquid they'd just secreted, then proceeds into Santana's room, where he finds her serenely laid upon the bed, one arm shoved under the pillow and her head cocked to the side.

For a moment, he still thinks she's awake, until he inches closer to her and sees that her eyes are screwed tightly shut.

He smiles at this pleasant sight, then carefully raises the blankets to cover her and shield her from the chilly air of this night. He leans down and places a soft kiss to her forehead, just like he'd done a few moments ago to her young counterpart.

He valiantly settled beside her, nuzzling his head comfortably on her shoulder. She stirred, but just for a moment, then, unfazed, she fluttered back into her peaceful slumber.

A few minutes past, and Finn could hear nothing but her rhythmic breathing and the steady ticking of the Sue Sylvester clock hanging above her bed. He could feel himself gradually falling into unconsciousness, but before he completely fell under, he dug his head further into Santana's neck and whispered a phrase he'd never dreamed he'd say.

"I love you, Santana."

.


	6. The Events In Panama

**Chapter Title: **The Events In Panama.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana, Finn/Rachel, Quinn/Puck, Mike/Tina.  
**Word count**: 3,437.  
**Warnings: **Language, some teenage drinking, & graphic sexual content.  
**Note: **Yeah, so. I'm sorry this is later than normal. But I can't just snap my fingers & it be posted! (Though, I wish that were true.) Oh well. I made this chapter very long to make up for less speedy posting! I hope it's worth it. More Noelle coming up! Because she's just too cute. Leave your thoughts!

.

Santana's eyes peeled open and a sour expression fixated on her face as she was met with the piercing brightness of the sun peaking through the blinds of the window beside her bed. She indirectly sat up and looked around her room – she was alone.

Sheepishly, she brushed a hand through her matted hair and groaned when she touched the drool on her cheek.

Throwing the covers off, she slid her feet into a pair of slippers that rested on the floor beside her bed.

As she dragged her feet down the hallway, she heard her mother talking downstairs. Santana was confused. Her mom hadn't been home in almost a week – hasn't she been in Chicago with her boyfriend? Or… her 'just a sweet friend, Mija. Nothing to worry about.'

"Mommy!" Noelle cooed from her high chair as she saw Santana sleepily leaning her head against the kitchen's door frame.

"Oh, Buenos días, Mija. Sleep well?" Katia, Santana's mother, said from the door. Katia was a tiny woman in her early thirties, who stood just a bit taller that Santana.

"Fine," was all Santana replied. Her eyes moved to Finn, who sat in the chair beside Noelle's, assisting in her playing with the little alphabet learning device Will had given her for her first birthday. "Finn, what are you still doing here?"

"Well I was gonna leave earlier, but your mom came home and we got to talking." He shrugged.

Santana refused to let her eyes widen with shock, "Really."

Katia laughed, "It's okay, Mija. Really, Está bien. We just talked about your similarities with Noie when you were her age."

"Really, Mamá," Santana said with a slight laugh, "baby stories?"

"Si! There is nothing wrong with that, is there?" Katia huffed in her thick Spanish accent.

Santana playfully rolled her eyes and walked to the countertop where a plate of cupcakes were laid out. She swiped her index finger across one, collecting some rich vanilla icing, and stuck it in her mouth. "So Ma, how was Chicago with Chuckles?"

"_Charles_, Mija," Katia corrected, carrying Noelle's breakfast plates to the sink, "And it was fine. We stayed at a beautiful hotel with a gorgeous veranda overlooking the city, it was magical."

"Yep," Santana said impetuously, popping her lips.

Charlie Tyger was definitely not on Santana's good side. He met Katia a year ago at Quinn's mom's annual Christmas party and they immediately hit it off. Ever since then, Katia is never home and always with him. Unlike Santana, Katia is a very dependent person. She comes home ever so often, to give Noelle a kiss or something and get some more clothes. Then she's gone again for a week or two.

Santana's used to being alone. That's why she sort of wanted to move in with Finn. One: she needed the extra help with Noelle, and two: she just… kind of enjoyed being with him.

They couldn't talk much at school. People would flip out if they saw them together. It was quite disconcerting.

Which was why Santana was happy that this week, school was closed for Fall break. A whole week of no stupid whispers, no unsettling comments – and no Finn.

…so she thought.

We'll leave them nameless, but it was someone's bright idea for the glee club to vacation at the beach. (Brittany)

Santana, of course, thought this idea was stupid. Who goes to the beach during Fall break? Isn't that a Spring break thing? Whatever. Santana didn't worry about it.

The ride there was terrible. It was Mike's brilliant idea to get his uncle's travel van. Apparently it was 'the size of a house'. More like, the size of a normal sized car. While trying to endure the inevitably cramped space, Santana refused to speak to anyone. The whole way there, she kept her head propped against the window with her iPod buds shoved into her ear. She spent the time worried about Noelle.

Katia agreed to keep her for the first three days, Carole for the next four.

Carole, she wasn't worried about.

Santana knew her mother would probably have taken Noelle to Woodchuck's by now, and that thought terrified her. She didn't want Noelle anywhere near that 'blood-thirsty-weasel'.

She pushed that thought aside whenever distractions came up. Such as how whenever 'Don't Stop Believing' would come on the radio, the entire van would rock out to it in pure nostalgia of their first year together.

Or like whenever Finn would 'accidently' put his hand on her leg. And then gradually creep it higher on her thigh before pulling it away when someone looked their way.

Santana had gotten used to all this commotion.

Finn slept beside her, Brittany nearly passed out beside him. Mike's, along with Tina's and Rachel's, head was blocking her view of the driver, Puck. Quinn, naturally, is in the passenger seat beside him, constantly telling him to slow down or 'you missed the turn, you idiot!'

After fourteen long hours, and several bathroom stops for Rachel's over active bladder, they arrive at their hotel in the beautiful Florida.

They book a double suite – the girls in one room, the boys in the conjoined room.

Rachel and Quinn are the firsts to suggest they hit the pool. Their only defense was that they deserve some refreshing time in the water after spending fourteen hours in a cramped van with 'you boys'.

They stay in the pool area until they're the only ones there. It's closing in on midnight, and Santana's sitting alone in a lawn chair near the pool, legs wrapped up under her, in a hoodie and signature cheerio shorts. She never knew why, but her upper body was always colder than her lower body – no matter what the temperature was.

She writes in her journal, occasionally looking up to see everyone have fun in the pool. Puck had splashed her a few times, but only enough to dampen her. Their attempts at making her socialize were futile.

She hadn't seen Finn in a while. He swam for about an hour and a half, then went back to the suite for a shower.

She pushes that thought away as she sketches a picture of Noelle on an empty page in her journal. As she added texture to her two-dimensional daughter, through the corner of her eye she saw someone sit in the lawn chair beside her.

"Why aren't you swimming?" The shadow asked.

Santana shrugged, eyes still focused plainly on the paper, "Don't wanna."

They shared an awkward silence.

"Do you think I look like her?" Santana asked, raising her head from the journal and looking at the pool. Finn eyed her with a confused expression.

"My mom," she answered his unasked question.

"Oh," Finn cleared his throat, "Yeah… you really do."

Santana shrugged remorsefully, "No. I don't. I look like my dad."

Finn didn't want to intrude, but he'd been begging to know for years…

"What happened to your dad?"

Santana's heart sunk.

_The last time she saw her dad was on a Sunday. He'd taken her to a baseball game on Christmas Eve. She was eleven._

_He'd gotten into a fight with Katia about sleeping around with some guy she worked with. Santana was little, so she didn't know how serious of a fight it was. She just thought he was gonna take her to a baseball game, then for some frozen yogurt, then they'd cuddle up on the sofa and watch movies with hot apple cider like they do every Christmas Eve._

_This time was different._

_Santana knew it when she got in the car – something wasn't right._

_The way he was acting was different. He hadn't called her 'sweet-pea' yet._

_She watched as condensation fogged up the windows to the el Camino, and softly chuckled to herself as her dad angrily beat his fists on the dashboard to make the windshield wipers work._

_They enjoyed the game together – laughing, cheering, huddling together in the blistering cold in his giant jacket with Santana happily sitting on his lap._

_Then, it happened. It was around 10:30 at night. Doug dropped Santana off at home, her mom waiting patiently on the porch. The tiny eleven year old waited for her best friend to get out of the car, but he quickly changed gears and drove away._

_She watched in confusion as his car faded from her sight. Katia slowly walked down the walkway, scooped her little girl into her arms and carried her inside._

_Just like that… he was gone._

"I haven't seen him since."

Finn sat back. "I guess we have a little more in common than you thought."

Santana cracked a smile, "More in common than a two year old?"

The night seemed to drag on forever. Finn had learned so many things about her he'd never known.

Santana hates Twilight. Not for the reason most girls hate it, which is the fact that it is 'overrated Dracula fan fiction'. No, she hates it for a much better reason. She hates it because it fools innocent, gullible girls into thinking that there are guys like Edward in the world, which Santana can tell you, there aren't.

He wouldn't talk. He knew better. Instead, he promised himself to let her rant her frustration out and just to listen contently while she did. That's the best he could do.

But he'd never know just how much it meant to her… just to have someone to listen.

"I'm getting tired," Santana said, getting her journal and standing up, "I think I'm gonna go to the suite."

"I'll go with you," Finn said without missing a beat. At Santana's confused look, he added, "You don't need to walk all the way up there by yourself."

She laughed slightly, "Okay."

The other glee kids saw them walk off together, but none of them uttered a word. Rachel slid up on the soaked concrete surface surrounding the pool and folded her arms with a sour expression on her face.

Everyone could tell she most certainly did not like this new 'friendship' Santana and Finn had, but they knew not to test her. Rachel may be small, but she's the type of person who will snap in a moment's notice.

Santana entered her suite and dropped the passkey onto the table. Finn followed her, closing the door as she kicked off her flip flops.

"Aren't you tired?" Santana asked as she collapsed onto the bed. She fell serenely into the comforter and watched as Finn dug for something in his bag that he was obviously too lazy to unpack in his own room.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Not really. With a girlfriend like Rachel, it's kind of hard to sleep. My body's trained to be alert 24/7." He said with a laugh.

Santana's face fell, "So you're dating Rachel again?"

He sat down on the bed opposite hers and sighed, "We're in between the on again/off again stage."

Santana nodded understandingly, "I see."

Silence fell between them and, as she always does, Santana looked everywhere but at Finn. He finally spoke, very softly, his eyes crystallizing on hers, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She replied instantly, scooting further up the bed to lean her back against the headboard. She watched as she dug her toes into the comforter as though it were sand on the beach, where she'd be right now if it weren't for her insane post-partum depression.

Finn didn't reply. The look on his face told Santana she already knew, but was avoiding it. She let out a deep sigh and sank further into the bed, her head rolling back to where it hit the wall. "Finn, don't- don't apologize."

"But it's my fault." He stated sharply, clutching his chest as he moved to sit at the foot of her bed. "It's my fault you're going through this, it's my fault that it's so damn impossible for you to be having fun. And…" He trailed off.

Santana's jaw extended, "And what?"

"And I'm the reason you're not the Santana you were two years ago." He said almost so softly, it sounded like he was hurt by this.

"I'm a _mom_, Finn. Excuse me for growing up!" She spat, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Finn's shoulders sank back, "I don't know. Maybe I'm just crazy, but I kind of miss the old you."

Santana thought for a minute. She could do this and regret it later or not do this and regret not doing it like the girl she is now, or she could sink back a few years ago and do what's been sitting in the back of her mind for ages.

She swings her legs over the bed and stands up, "Fine, you want the old Santana back? Come with me." She says as she grabs him roughly by the arm and pulls him up.

She drags him into the linen closet beside the conjoined bathroom and slams the door behind them. Just as the door slammed shut, his back landed against it, making the small space rattle.

Not even the confined and uncomfortable space could distract Finn from letting his fingertips trace every inch of her body as he inhaled sharply and let out a throaty groan.

Somewhere inside Santana, a part of her that had died long before Noelle was born was coming alive again. And she knew it as she pressed her body into Finn's, whimpering into his ear as his fingertips pushed the fabric of her hoodie up and lightly grazed the smooth, tanned skin of her waist.

She swiped his hand away and laced their fingers together as his mouth pressed against hers, both of them smiling into the kiss.

Santana was first to break the kiss, but only long enough to pull the navy blue t-shirt over his head. Her lips then collided with his neck, drawing trails along his collar bone while he fiddled in his back pocket for his wallet. Blinking his eyes excessively to stay focused, he managed to pull a tiny foil package from the money flap of his wallet and he promptly ripped it open.

"Yes," Santana said into his skin, answering his unasked question.

He nodded confidently and watched as she stepped back and discarded her pink hoodie, dropping it to the floor. Finn's eyes never left her flawless body as she pushed the white soffe shorts down her long, slender legs and stepped out of them.

"Oh, my God." was all Finn could say. He'd always been dumbfounded by Santana's immense beauty. Rachel is pretty, Quinn is hot, but Santana is _beautiful._

"And there's no way I'm the only one doing this, Finnocence." She said slyly, biting her lip as she walked toward him and toyed with the waistline of his swimming trunks.

He laughed and pushed her hand away. "Okay, okay."

Her eyes never left his as they both became bare, Santana graciously clinging to him like a little girl. Finn slipped the latex over his erect member and gulped as he hoisted Santana's legs around his waist, her back pressed firmly against the cold wall, making her involuntarily shiver at the contact.

A tiny squeal came from Santana's mouth as she felt him slowly slide into her, and he exhaled sharply through his nose as her walls tightened around him, his head falling back to hit the wall.

"Go, idiot." She snapped, jogging him back to consciousness, out of his pre-orgasmic bliss.

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Don't be so snappy," and began to pump himself rhythmically, fueling both of their erratic breathing.

His name escaped her lips as his speed quickened and he tightened his grip on her hips. Her tiny hands explored his back, fingernails gracelessly piercing skin, hair gently being pulled, handprints resulting from tight grips.

Neither of them had ever been so eagerly captivated than they were at this moment; inadvertently debating over whose cries of pleasure were louder. (Though Santana was easily winning.)

Santana's face twisted with pleasure as she neared her breaking point, calling out his name as her walls convulsed around him tightly, assisting in his eager finish. He spilled into the condom, and pulled out of her. Her feet finally met the cold hardwood floor of the cramped linen closet, and Finn had to hold her arms to keep her knees from giving in – her legs were very weak.

Her body trembled as she shakily got dressed, refusing to look anywhere but at Finn, who had already gotten dressed and was leaning against the door proudly, smirking.

"What?" she asked, knitting her eyebrows in annoyance.

"_That's_ the Santana I fell in love with two years ago."

She shook her head as she tended to her matted, thick hair. "You weren't in love with me,"

He eyed her curiously and she moved closer to him, "You weren't even there when Noie was born."

"I was," he said almost instantly, "I was there. You didn't know it, but I was there. I saw her… in the nursery."

Santana's eyes fogged up with confusion.

Finn looked at his palms, drawn up in a holding position in front of him, "She was so tiny. She was… all pink and smooth, but kind of wrinkly. Kind of like a slice of bologna. I don't know."

Santana giggled, "What do you mean you were there? I didn't see you."

"The nurses said you completely passed out from exhaustion the moment she was taken from you. Mom and I didn't really need any help finding out which one she was in the nursery."

Her eyebrows rose.

Finn explained himself, "She was the only kid with kickass drummer hands. She also kinda looked like me, or so Mom said. I didn't really see it. At least that's what I thought she said… she was crying too hard. Noelle was so tiny… and she had this little… striped pink and green hat on."

"Yeah, that was a gift from Quinn and her mom." Santana finally broke in, "Why didn't you tell me you were there?"

"I thought you didn't want me to be! I mean, after that talk we had in the hallway when I first found out… you didn't seem like you ever wanted to see me again."

"You should have told me, I treated you so terribly."

Both of them were silent for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only seconds. Finn finally chimed in, "Come on." He swung his arm around her shoulders as they finally evacuated the confined space. Both of them audibly let out a sigh of relief as they were welcomed with air that wasn't quickly receding.

Their peacefulness lasted only seconds before being interrupted by the clearing of a throat. Their attention was quickly turned to the door, where a suspicious Puck was standing, one eyebrow raised.

"Puck!" Santana squealed unintentionally. Finn dropped his arm and cleared his throat, "Hey, uh, what- what are you doing here?"

Puck rapidly blinked his eyes, attempting to draw conclusions in his head. "Quinn needed a new tampon. I came up here to get her one. Uh, I'm just gonna…"

Santana exasperatedly rested a hand on her forehead and let out an embarrassed sigh.

Puck held his palms up in defense, "Hey, I saw nothing." He snickered as he walked around the two of them toward Quinn's duffel bag, "But I may have _heard_ some things." This earned several slaps to the back and chest from Santana, who Finn inevitably pulled away.

"Don't say anything!" Finn scorned, still holding back a fuming Santana.

"Relax, bro, I'm the _best_ at keeping secrets. You, of all people, should know that." The shady boy winked at Finn, who rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

Puck gathered Quinn's required equipment and walked toward the door, but of course, he had to have the last say, "Just… no _stains._ That shit is gross."

The door shut and Santana let out a groan of annoyance. "See, _this_ is why we can't be together, Finn!"

"Puck is like that, Santana." Finn tried to reason, but there was no use.

Santana shook her head and clasped her hands together, "It's pointless, Finn, the more time we spend together, the more they're gonna question."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she trailed off, looking at the window that focused on the starry night, "Maybe we should just… go back to only talking when we have to. It's best for us, and it's best for Noelle. And she's our priority. For the sake of her happiness, all this drama can't happen. Let's just forget it all."

.


	7. I Get A Little Bit Stronger

**Chapter Title: **I Get A Little Bit Stronger.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana, mentions of Quinn/Puck.  
**Word count**: 2,256.  
**Warnings: **Language, Mild Sexual Content.  
**Note: **Full author's note at the end of the chapter.

.

The sunlight peaking through the blinds of a window in her hotel room pierced Santana's eyes, and they fluttered open slightly, becoming hooded. She sat up, yawning, and the blankets fell to a pool around her waist.

"Morning, Princess." A certain blonde said sarcastically with a faux smile plastered on her face.

Santana groaned in response, rubbing the tiredness off her eye. She flung the blankets off her body and swung out of bed, placing her feet on the soft carpet. She slowly made her way over to the kitchen area, where she was met with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Silently, she poured herself a cup. Normally, Santana hated coffee. But when you have a toddler who never sleeps, coffee's a safe haven.

"So!" Quinn was the first to speak, breaking the awkward silence in the room just the two of them were in, "Puck told me what happened last night."

Santana raised a fine eyebrow, leaning against the counter as she took the mug in both hands and slowly sipped the warm liquid.

"You and Finn." Quinn elaborated.

Santana nearly spit out the mouthful of drink she had. "Puckerman's full of shit," she spat, carefully setting the mug behind her on the counter.

Quinn looked at her accusingly. Of all people, Quinn saw through Santana the best.

"Don't look at me like that," Santana sighed, dropping her shoulders, "it was a mistake."

"Rachel's gonna kill you."

Santana smirked condescendingly, slightly pursing her lips, "I almost care."

Quinn sucked in sharply through her teeth, "All I'm saying… Be careful."

Santana's dark eyes rolled as she swatted her hand, "Yeah, yeah. Finn knows it meant nothing."

Quinn blinked at her cautiously.

"I don't love him, he doesn't love me. We have a daughter."

"Exactly," Quinn spat almost instantly, "You have a daughter, and she is the only thing both of you need to be worrying about."

Santana rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee, listening half-heartedly.

Quinn sighed, wondering why she was so hard to get through to. You'd think having a kid would make her become more open-minded.

"You're lying through your teeth if you tell yourself you don't love him." Quinn mumbled silently under her breath as she turned back to the bed, beginning to straighten the sheets up.

Santana pretended not to hear. She couldn't decide whether or not she was pretending for herself, or pretending for Quinn.

What gave Quinn the right to tell her who she loves? Excuse me – _doesn't_ love.

Whatever.

She decided not to think about it as she grumbled something about a shower and walked to the bathroom. She let out a shaky breath as she closed the door, resting her forehead against the cold white wood as she slowly closes her eyes, still refusing to think. When she'd taken the time to gather her composure, she drags her feet over to the shower, sliding the blurry glass far enough for her to fit inside. She stripped herself carefully before twisting the left knob. Hot water erupted from the spout, but it still wasn't hot enough.

She needed it to burn.

She needed her skin to become the deepest shade of red she could manage.

She hissed as the scorching water made contact with her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed as she just leaned against the shower's wall, feeling the cold tile slowly become heated by the amount of steam circulating the tiny bathroom. Taking a deep breath, she let her fingers roam all over her soaked body, imagining him.

_Him._

His strong, rough, calloused fingers making never-ending trails over her silky smooth body. His thick fingers pushing into her, slowly at first, then gradually creating a steady, quick pace. She bites her lip and gasps, eyes closed as she imagines him breathing down her neck, causing that oh so familiar feeling. The one that makes every hair stand erect on her neck. She inhales shakily, and gasps his name before letting her head fall back against the soaked tile. She finally opens her eyes, staring up at the ceiling with worried eyes.

She catches her breath and turns off the water, before stealing a cheap hotel towel and wrapping it around her tiny form. She runs a shaky hand through her soaked hair, sticking to her skin cautiously, then opens the door. She's immediately met with cold air, and she shivers intensely. She ignores the cold air as she walks further into the room, heading toward the armoire containing her clothes.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears a throat being cleared. She cries out, turning around and placing a hand to her chest as if to slow her heartbeat.

"Finn!" she shouts angrily, stomping her foot to get her frustrated point across. Finn laughs, smirking slightly.

She wants to slap the smirk off his face.

_Disgusting._

She sighs in frustration, turning her attention back to the armoire, subconsciously tightening the towel around her body.

His smirk does nothing but grow as he approaches her, deviously pulling at the end of the towel. Her hands curl into fists around the edges of the armoire as he brushes her damp hair to one shoulder, heatedly placing his lips in the crook of her neck, tasting her soft, perfect skin. He trails his kisses up her neck until his lips rest just below her ear, where he whispers gruffly, "You don't have to hide from me."

She gulps hard as her eyes flutter shut, her fists clenching the sturdy wood tighter. She bites her lip anxiously as his lips slowly travel back down to her shoulder, pressing his body against her back.

The sound of a ringtone going off ceases his actions. She snaps her head back upright and blinks a few times to fathom what's going on.

Her phone.

She silently praises the Lord, anxiously walking over to pick her phone off the bed. Without looking at the ID, she presses it to her ear and clears her throat, "Uh, h-hello?"

.

Finn swallows as he sits in a chair in the corner of the room, pointedly staring at how her long, tanned, well-toned legs were shown off deviously beneath that very thin, very… _short_ white towel. He noticeably gulped as he tried intently to listen to her conversation.

"Well, tell Grammy that Mommy said it was okay." Is the only thing he hears out of, what seems like, an hour long conversation. (It's actually less than three minutes.)

She huffs as she slams the phone shut and disappears into the bathroom wordlessly.

He wonders if it's something he did.

He's probably right.

.

"She kind of looks like Suri Cruise…," Finn stated before craning his head to look up at the sky. The bright yellow sun splashed mechanically against the mild teal sky, while hundreds of birds circled lazily overhead. The anxious autumn evening had sprung several of the glee club members together again, but no longer in the comfort of their vacation. It had been two very long weeks they'd been back in Lima, and one particular dark haired girl couldn't help but praise the Lord above for freeing her of those stupid mutants.

Everyone spread out happily amongst the park outside of McKinley. Finn sat in a swing next to Santana, who refused to make hers move more than an inch as she watched her daughter be chased amongst the leaves by Kurt Hummel. Santana smirked to herself as she recalled being scolded for teaching Noelle to always refer to him as 'Auntie Kurt'.

But hey, old habits die hard.

The wind picked up and, ignoring Finn's comment, Santana had to hold the sunglasses to her face to prevent them from flying into the dirt. Her hair flew in every which direction and she mentally cursed herself for not using more conditioner this morning. Her attempt at ignorance was proven futile as she was nudged in the arm, jogging her out of her thoughts and alerting her. "Don't you think?"

She narrowed her eyes, though shielded by her dark shades. As she was about to answer with some witty, sarcastic remark she'd spent the past few seconds pulling together in her head, Puck slid into a swing beside her and stole the glasses from her face, pushing them onto his before using the dirt to kick him off. As his swinging speed increased, he asked, "What are you two losers talking about?"

Santana grimaced, "Before you so _rudely_ interrupted, I was about to tell Finn that…" she trailed off, turning her attention snappily back to the boy on the opposite side of her, "…_no,_ Noelle does not look like Suri Cruise."

The look on Finn's face almost made Santana want to argue about Noelle more. (That seemed to be the only communication they shared since the return from Panama.)

"Huh," Puck huffed suddenly, going so high Santana was sure he was going to flip over the long metal bar the chains were attached to. "I always thought she looked more like a young Angelina Jolie. Y'know, minus the vicious home-wrecking-man-stealing bitchiness."

Santana raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow, blinking accusingly at Puck.

In response, he held his hands up in defense. "Hey, I'm not saying your kid's gonna be a home wrecker… but, c'mon. I'm just saying."

Finn's expression matched Santana's.

"Okay, okay…." Puck stopped swinging, a cloud of dust erupting as his sneakers made contact with the dirt. He clutched onto the metal chains wildly as he sighed. "Foot in mouth, Puck. I got it."

Santana couldn't deny the smile that crept onto her face, before she turned her attention to a small little girl running at her, arms extended, screaming 'Mommy! Mommy!' repeatedly.

"Noie! Noie!" Santana mimicked, opening her arms when her miniature self flung herself into her arms, causing the swing to stagger back a bit. Noelle situated herself in her mother's warm, comfortable lap, Santana's arms wrapped tightly around her tiny waist. The smaller Latina held up a bright Daisy and said happily, "I picked you a _flow-ehwr_."

Santana brought her lips to the side of her daughter's face, kissing the delicate, smooth skin before whispering in her ear, "Why don't you give it to Daddy? Hm?"

Noelle gasped happily in response, as though the suggestion was the best idea she's heard in the entirety of her life. Wiggling out of Santana's lap, she moved to the swing to her left and quickly held her arms up.

Finn raised an eyebrow as he lifted his daughter onto his knee, holding her steady as he began to swing slowly.

Noelle's tiny hands cupped around Finn's ear as she whispered simply, "Daddy… I have a _pwesent_ for you."

"What's that, Kiddo?" Finn asked with a slight laugh, gently bouncing Noelle on his knee. She held her tongue between her lips in concentration as she grabbed Finn's hand – she was astounded by how much bigger than hers it was – and turned it palm up. Her eyes lit up as she placed the Daisy delicately in his hand. With her best smile, she looked up at Finn, eyes as wide and happy as they could be.

Finn smiled, laughing once through his nose. Wrapping one arm around Noelle, he pulled her to his chest and hugged her, placing an innocent kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you, Baby. I'll keep it forever."

Noelle giggled playfully as she hugged Finn's neck and, being always told that way, muttered a quick 'you're-welcome' before Kurt, who was standing idly by one of the bars of the swing set, took her away from Finn's embrace and twirled her in the air, causing her to explode with a fit of giggles, as he spun her back to the rest of the Glee Club.

Finn cradled the flower in his hand, smiling down softly at it.

Santana pretended not to notice.

"Okay!" Puck exhaled rudely, "I hate to break up this little family moment, but…." he trailed off, before he wrinkled his nose, "…I'm gonna break up this little family moment." with the click of his tongue and a nudge on Santana's arm, he turned on his heel. Santana let out a sigh in annoyance, but was quickly left startled as he held up a finger and turned around.

"Oh," he began, kneeling in front of her swing. "One more thing… you and me, dinner tomorrow night at Breadstix."

Santana's mouth slowly dropped open, "You're with _Quinn,_ Puckerman."

He shrugged simply, his eyes inadvertently traveling to a petite young blonde currently competing against Noelle (with the help of Tina) on a seesaw. Santana promised herself she'd ignore the hurt falling upon his face as he explained, "She dumped me… something about finding her meaning or some… shit like that." His voice fell to a whisper as his eyes fell to the dirt as he muttered the last bit.

Santana cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow. Biting her lip, she said sympathetically, "Sure, Puck. I'll go eat with you."

Finn grimaced, and pretended not to notice the smile the two were sharing. Although his face was turned toward the others, he'd saw the whole thing through his peripheral vision.

He told himself he doesn't care, though.

And he doesn't.

Just like his hands didn't curl into fists when Puck placed a kiss on Santana's forehead.

Or like, how his eyebrows didn't knit with anger when they walked off holding hands.

Or, more regretfully, how his heart didn't just shatter into a million some odd pieces.

.

**Author's Note.**

You might be wondering why Santana's been so… unlike herself in this story. See, when you have a kid, especially one you've spent two years raising, you grow up. You stop doing immature things, like the behavior Santana has in the show.

Finn's out of character, but only because I don't really feel like… innocent, slightly dumb, gullible Finn would perfectly fit the type of character I'm trying to portray in my story. My Finn had, in fact, grown up, too. Granted, not as much as Santana had. But in the idle two years between the show and this story, he's managed to smarten up and mature a bit as well.

The pairings. As of now, Finn _is_ between his on again/off again relationship with Rachel. There will be slight Finchel to come, but let's face it. He doesn't love her, and we all know who truly owns his heart. As for anyone else, I try to leave the other pairings to the imagination of the reader. More to avoid being biased on my part. Therefore, aside from small hints of Quick from time to time, and maybe some other ships you'd have to squint to see, this story is mainly Finntana and I try to stick to that.

I'm really happy you're enjoying this story and I have big plans for it, so keep tight!

Love always, Bri.


	8. Close Encounters

**Chapter Title: **Close Encounters  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana, Finn/Rachel, Puck/Santana  
**Word count**: 1,742  
**Warnings: **language, mild sexual content.  
**Notes: **It's short. I apologize. But since Ryan, Ian and Brad have given me absolutely zero inspiration for these two (aside from that insanely hot kiss), I'm completely at a loss. Oh, and I'm sorry if there are many mistakes I didn't catch. I can't really say I necessarily proofread, but I skimmed. And I promise I'll stop making Finn such a douche in a little while. Promise, promise, promise!

.

Noah Puckerman is undateable.

Santana had decided this a good twenty minutes into their date. She mentally counted the number of times he ignored her by staring not-so-inconspicuously at their waitress's butt. And, as much as she wanted to say she did, she really didn't care. At all.

She didn't care when he only nodded, picking aimlessly at his pasta, as she explained something about Noelle learning a foul word she'd picked up from a movie.

She didn't care when he only blinked at her mindlessly as she tried to explain to him the ten-thousand things wrong with his attire.

And, perhaps most importantly, she didn't care when he _pretended_ not to notice that she'd called him Finn several times throughout the night.

Especially as he laid on top of her in this ratty, forlorn motel room that smelt of cheap alcohol and old tobacco. Fingernails were carved into skin, hair was tugged, names were cried.

Yet, Puck still managed to disregard how his best friend's name was falling repeatedly out of the girl beneath him's mouth in a desperate, pleading manner, as her eyebrows furrowed and her back arched off the bed. More than likely, he only saw this as a challenge. He was determined to hear his name, just once.

_Nothing._

.

Sheepishly dragging herself out of her tiny Honda, Santana dropped her shoulders and groaned as she carried herself into Finn's house, leaning against the door as soon as she closed it. She wondered why the lights were still on throughout the house, since it was well past Noelle's bedtime. To investigate, she kicked off the grey ankle boots she'd been wearing and dragged her feet to the living room, where she was met with an unsettling sight.

She tried her damnest to focus on Noelle playing with her barbies sorted out on the floor, but her eyes had other intentions as they flew to the couch, where her stomach churned.

They hadn't even noticed her.

Finn's lips were meshed with Rachel's, and the tiny whimpering sounds coming from Rachel were making Santana's blood boil. Her eyes fell down to his hands. One was pressed gently on the small of her back as the other held the back of the couch for support. Rachel tugged at the bottom of Finn's shirt and Santana had to cover her mouth to prevent herself from gagging.

Eventually, she became fed up with this. Especially when Noelle looked up at them and frowned.

Leaning against the doorframe, Santana cleared her throat to alert them of her presence. Despite her expectations, they actually looked at her. Rachel jumped and scrambled to adjust her top, while Finn rolled his eyes and sat back, crossing his arms with a scowl. Fighting back a smirk, proud of herself, Santana sighed and reached her arms out for her younger counterpart. "C'mon, Noie. It's passed your bedtime."

Noelle simply whined, "But mommy."

Santana's eyebrows rose. "Noelle Adrianna."

Pouting, Noelle dropped the barbie she was holding onto the carpet and dragged her feet over to her mother, who lifted her into her arms and glared at Finn before taking her upstairs.

Finn's eyes rolled.

.

"Sleep tight, sweetie. Love you." Santana whispered before closing the nursery door gently. She spun around and gasped, startled by Finn, who stood in front of her. She placed a hand on her chest as though to steady her fast-paced heart, then sighed as she finally caught her breath. "Don't do that."

Finn snorted and followed her down the hallway, "Did you have fun tonight?"

"I did, actually." The Latina sneered, turning the corner into the bathroom where she stood at the vanity, fluffing out her hair. "You care because…?"

He rolled his eyes in response to her ignorance and huffed, "I don't. But I think it's kind of funny how you always seem to be… whoring yourself around at night while I'm here taking care of _your_ kid."

_Ouch._

"_My_ kid?" she glanced down at her knuckles, which had turned white due to her hands' grip on the corners of the sink.

Finn raised an eyebrow as he leaned condescendingly against the doorframe. As much as he wanted to retaliate, he couldn't find it in himself to do so. He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes restlessly. Slightly startled by his sudden silence, Santana blinked mindlessly at her reflection. She cocked her head to the side, rolling her eyes at the deep purple hickeys that had appeared on her neck as her hair fell off her shoulder. She sighed, opened the medicine cabinet for a bottle of cover-up, and dabbed a bit on a makeup sponge.

She hissed as the cold, thick liquid made contact with the skin of her neck, but she ignored it as she used her index finger to massage it into her porcelain skin. Impressed by how well the foundation blended in with her tone, she quickly lidded the small bottle and placed it back in its previous home, closing the medicine cabinet afterward.

Finn had been oblivious to this, only tiredly rubbing his forehead. As soon as he looked up, he clearly noticed the purple love marks peaking through the makeup. She smirked, proud, as she watched the envy in his eyes as they fell to her neck and she licked her lips as he stepped closer to her. She scowled up at him, shoving her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Her brown eyes rolled in frustration, but her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his fingers lightly graze the skin of her neck, his lips parted slightly.

"F-Finn…" She stammered harshly, her voice catching as he pressed his index finger delicately against her pale lips.

"Ssh." He shushed her, and pressed his lips against the swollen skin of her neck, directly above Puck's previous love bites. She gasped, instinctively tilting her head. Her chest rose and fell more quickly as he licked a trail up to her lips, capturing them with his own. She whimpered slightly against his lips as his tongue grazed slowly along her bottom lip. Her lidded eyes finally closed and she moved her lips in rhythm with his, slowly, her arms remaining limp at her sides.

He protectively wrapped both his strong arms around her slender waist, pulling her closer to him. Her head fell back, giving him better access to sink his tongue between her lips.

A million thoughts swarmed around her head, but were quickly caught stranded as he raked his fingers slowly through her smooth hair, stopping to cup her neck to tilt her head back for better access, their lips moving in sync with each other.

Quickly gaining her strength back, she broke away from him and licked her now swollen lips as she stared pointlessly at the bathroom wall's tile. "Finn."

He let out a sharp breath he hadn't realized he was holding in, and backed away from her. "I, uh," he paused, swallowing hard. His voice fell to a low whisper as he looked up at the ceiling.

Santana's heart sank to the pit of her stomach as she heard the next sentence come from his mouth, "I w-want you to move out."

.

Wearing her signature smirk, Santana strutted down the halls of McKinley with a hand placed arrogantly on her hip. In all honesty, she felt proud to have all eyes on her again. It finally felt like the sun had set on her depressed days.

By his request, she'd moved out of Finn's house and moved back in with her mother, which basically meant she lived alone now.

But she refused to give up without a fight. Despite everyone's wishes, she'd cut off all ties between Noelle and Finn. She knew it was wrong, of course she did. But she felt degraded that he would assume that his previous actions toward her would go without consequence. Licking her lips, she strolled into the choir room, late for rehearsal as usual.

Not that it mattered, though.

Everyone had pretty much gone off to do their own thing throughout the room. Quinn sat idly alone on the risers, typically doodling in her journal as Puck picked at his six string a few seats over. Rachel, Mercedes, and Kurt all sat in the corner of the room, near the piano, going over song selections for their next competition a few weeks away. The rest of the room was strangely empty, and Santana's walking speed slowed as she arched an eyebrow in confusion. N

Upon seeing Brittany by the opposite door, she rushed over to her. "B, where is everyone?"

Brittany folded her arms questioningly, "I can't remember. I had soup this morning and my mom said it would affect my short-term memory because I'm allergic to bowls and didn't know it."

The short Latina bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at her best friend and turned her head as she saw Emma nervously fidget her way into the choir room. Santana's face turned downward as she analyzed the atrocious ensemble Emma was wearing. Some type of green and pink number with little red bird pins and hair clasps. It looked as though she'd raided both Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray's closets, then mix-matched their clothing.

Her attention was averted as a sympathetic looking Emma placed an envelope in her hands. "Your mother dropped this off this morning, said it came for you in the mail but she wouldn't be home later to give it to you."

Ignoring the, what she thought was a, shrill, overindulgent voice, she stared bewilderedly at the paper now in her hands.

Shaking her head in sudden disbelief at the return address, she quickly tore open the envelope and ripped out the folded paper, unfolding it cautiously as her glistening eyes scanned over the professionally printed paper cautiously.

Even just the heading made her want to empty the contents of her stomach.

**_Petition of full legal custody of Hudson, Noelle.  
_**

_By signing consent, Lopez, Santana appoints Hudson, Finn to be the guardian of the personal estate of Noelle until she shall attain the age of eighteen years or marries, and agrees not to revoke this appointment or appoint any other person to be the guardian of the child._

No.

No, no, no. _No._

Huffing angrily, Santana threw the paper furiously onto the floor and stormed out of the choir room. Fast.

.

_I suppose I'll dedicate this to Claudia, who keeps my faith in Finntana alive._


	9. Hate Is A Strong Word

**Chapter Title: **Hate Is A Strong Word  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana, implied Finn/Rachel.  
**Word count**: 1,966.  
**Warnings: **Language, mild sexual content.  
**Notes: **This is short and rushed and sloppy. I apologize.

_For Autumn.  
Because she kept forcing me to fight through my writer's block. I guess it paid off. I love you!_

.

"San, slow down!"

As much as she wanted to listen to the annoying, stuffy voice calling after her, Santana just couldn't seem to comprehend any of her surroundings. All she'd managed to weave together in her thick head was that she'd stormed out of the choir room faster than a bullet, and she was pretty sure that distinctive stuffy voice belonged to Quinn Fabray, who she assumed must have worriedly followed her.

Despite these assumptions, the small brunette knew one thing for certain:

Finn Christopher Hudson must _die._

Maybe it was just her imagination, but the hallway of McKinley High's walls seemed to be closing in on her and she was sure steam was radiating out of her ears like they do in cartoons. The crowd parted as she sprinted down the hall and, as she turned a specific corner, she knew exactly where he'd be.

Sure enough, standing by the school's infamous slushy machine talking to Sam Evans, was Finn. Without thinking, she ran straight up to him and her palm instantly collided with his cheek. His head turned sharply to the side due to the impact, leaving a visible red mark.

He hissed and brought a hand to his cheek to rub the pain away, Sam's eyes widened in shock.

Ignoring the stupid blonde football player's cluelessness, Santana shoved a perfectly manicured finger into Finn's face, uncaring that she was causing a scene and several curious observers had gathered around them. "Who the _hell_ do you _fucking_ think you are!"

Quinn had caught up to Santana just as she'd yelled the last profanity and stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the hatred in the fuming Latina's eyes. After Finn had managed to rub most of the pain off his throbbing cheek, he quickly worked up enough anger to retaliate. He yelled back, spitting slightly in her face. "I'm doing what's best for my kid! Something _you_ obviously have no clue how to do!"

Santana's flawlessly tweezed eyebrows rose to the center of her forehead, "Excuse me?"

At this, Sam's mouth hung open. Several scattered whispers from the curious observing crowd consisted mainly of 'He did not just go there.' The short Latina wouldn't even let Finn say another word. Quickly, she turned on her heel and dashed down the hallway, Quinn worriedly watching her. Santana had one intention. She knew exactly who had put him up to this, and she'd be damned if she was going to let it happen.

The halls were crowded, but that didn't make a difference to the fuming brunette storming down the corridor. She found Rachel right where she suspected: Her locker.

Furrowing her brows, Santana rushed over to the pint-sized drama queen and slammed the locker door closed. The sound it made startled Rachel and she looked at Santana as though Lord Voldemort himself had just appeared on her doorstep. "Santana?"

"Fuck you," Santana spat sharply, breaking Rachel's sweet voice. "This was _your_ idea, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry?" Rachel scoffed, "I surely don't know what you're referring to."

"Don't play stupid, _Berry,_" Santana took another step closer, and inwardly smirked at the flash of sudden fear that she saw sparkling in the shorter brunette's eyes. "A custody battle? You talked him into it, didn't you?"

Feigning pride, Rachel folded her arms across her chest and looked at Santana skeptically. "I can assure you, I've done no such thing. However, I must advise that you not jump to conclusions so quickly, Santana. If Finn feels that this is the proper thing to do, then, for the sanity of your daughter, I suggest you go along with it."

Santana's eyes narrowed. Who did she think she was? Putting herself into other people's business like that. That's when it hit her. All this? It's just… an act. A classic, cunning, well-planned act that Rachel envisioned. Santana laughed once, bitterly, and crossed her arms to mimic Rachel's actions. "Look, _Yentl._ We all know you want Finn. We get that. We see that. It's obvious. However," she took another step toward Rachel, her eyes turning to slits and her voice falling low, "We have a kid together. _¿Lo entiendes? _She's ours, okay?"

Rachel's eyes began to cloud with angry tears as she barred her teeth down.

Santana's voice cracked as she said quietly, "Why can't you get it through your thick skull that Finn and I have that connection? We have a baby."

The hallway fell silent, and all that could be heard was Rachel's erratic breathing and Santana's angry pants of air.

After a moment, Rachel finally spoke, quietly, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "It was supposed to be me."

Santana's back straightened and she stared in confusion as Rachel slung her backpack over her shoulder and brushed past her. As she disappeared down the hall, all that could be heard was the tiny sound the wooden sole of her ballet flats made as they made contact with the cold tile.

.

She wasn't quite sure about the last time she actually cried like this. She'd manage to condemn so many feelings that she wasn't quite sure when they were all gonna come out. Not that she cared, though. She was just glad her high-maintenance great aunt had taken Noelle for the night, leaving her the house to herself.

Her back had been to the door when Finn walked in, so she hadn't noticed his entrance into her living room. She felt her tears spill into the fabric of the sofa she was laying on, honestly not caring about ruining the expensive fabric. She had to wonder why all this was happening to her. What she had done to deserve this.

The sound of her pulsing sobs made Finn grimace. He couldn't stand to see her upset, even worse that he had caused it. What could he have done? Rachel had so many good points about fighting for custody of Noelle. In his honest opinion, he felt that Noelle would be much safer and happier under his care strictly. But maybe that wasn't what Santana wanted. For some reason, he wanted to make _her_ happy as well. But the sight before him definitely didn't prove to be happy, and he bit his lip as he slowly walked around the couch, sitting down beside her.

When Santana felt the opposite end of the couch bend from his weight, she immediately snapped up and dried her eyes. "Oh, uh," she began, shoving various amounts of hair into her face. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Finn held back a laugh – she definitely couldn't hide it from him.

Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and brushed the hair that stuck to her cheeks from her face. She peered over at him sadly, and he shook his head with shame as he stood.

Their relationship had become sort of wordless. Santana, of course, knew it was wrong to have cut Finn out of Noelle's life. But the anger that he had delved into her sprang her through so much emotional turmoil that, as stubborn as she was, she wasn't about to let him go off that easy.

She stood up as well, folding her arms carelessly over her chest as she lifted an eyebrow at him to urge his answer. She heard him sigh, which caused her eyes to roll. This whole thing seemed pointless. Why must he _try_ to like her when he so clearly didn't?

"Well?" She repeated, intended anger coursing on her tongue.

"I don't know." He answered honestly with a shrug.

Santana's brown eyes narrowed fiercely, causing Finn's to widen slightly. Of all things, he _hated_ when girls gave him that look. Nothing good ever came from that _look._

"Why did you do it?" She blurted out. She wasn't quite sure why, however. It just sort of fell out of her mouth uncontrollably. Taking a deep, angry breath, she stepped forward.

Finn couldn't reply.

She didn't blame him.

Something in his eyes made her blood boil and she felt her hands shake as she unlatched her folded arms to grip his wrist, forcing him to look at her. "Finn! I'm so serious, why would you do that?"

He didn't say anything. Not that he was scared. He just didn't know. Rachel had been so intent to help him fight for custody of Noelle, and had lectured him so many times that he'd grown to forget why he was fighting in the first place. The tiny girl in front of him – the mother of his daughter – he was in_ love_ with her, something he couldn't say about hardly anyone.

Then he noticed something.

The look in her eyes wasn't _complete_ anger, or sadness. Most of it was _hate_.

Had she hated him all this time? For what he'd done to her? And put her through?

If she did, he definitely couldn't blame her. Nobody should have to go through that, and the fact that she was taking her anger and frustration out on him made anger course through his veins.

He gritted his teeth and leaned down to her level, yanking his arm out of her grasp. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" fell from her lips in an unintended whisper, her eyes chasing his.

As his bangs fell into his face, he narrowed his eyes and stepped toward her, grabbing her wrists firmly in his fists, emitting a tiny squeak from the back of her throat as he backed her to the wall. Her breathing turned shallow, but she kept her slitted eyes focused on his as he pushed his face against her neck and breathed harshly into her ear, "This."

She swallowed inadvertently, feeling anger rise up in her throat. She opened her mouth to yell, but felt nothing come out. Immediately, she felt one of his hands slide to her waist and gripped her hip, pinning her other arm beside her head.

"Stop me," he whispered darkly into her hair, causing chilling goosebumps to rise everywhere on her tanned skin, "If you don't want this, if you don't _fucking_ want this, stop me."

She gasped as she felt him press his body closer to hers and graze his fingers softly over the chill bumps on her forearms. Angrily, she shook her head and pushed her body against him to try and pry him off. Due to her tiny form, her attempts were futile and he only held her tighter. She knew for a _fact_ that she wanted it. But she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"I don't." was all she could mutter before she felt his lips press against her neck, leaving tiny trails down to her collarbone. She immediately cursed herself for wearing such a lowcut shirt. "Fuck you." She panted, feeling her eyes roll into the back of her head as he bit down on her sensitive skin.

Her head rolled back to meet the wall as she felt his lips curl into a smirk against her chest and she sighed as he murmured, "Glad you asked.", and hooked his hand under the back of her knee to hoist it up on his waist.

Letting out a groan of approval, Santana yanked her arm out of his grip on the wall and felt her hand fall to his shirt, ripping the fabric open down the middle.

He hissed and grabbed her wrist again, slamming her to the adjacent wall before he let his free hand pull her shirt over her head. She felt her eyes roll – more so from pleasure than annoyance – and pulled her hand free to tangle in his already matted hair, yanking on it as her lips met his.

Once he felt her fingers slip into his jeans, ripping open the button, it was over for the both of them.

.

_I didn't proofread this! Sorry for any mistakes!_


	10. Lessons Learned

**Chapter Title: **Lessons Learned.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Finn/Santana  
**Word count**: 2,413  
**Warnings: **Mild language, heavy sexual content.  
**Notes: **There's nothing better than Finntana smut. And, after the way this story began, I really freaking owe it to you guys. (I'm also making it up to Claudia for not getting her full hate sex.) Oh, and I originally had this and the next chapter merged together, but I felt it was too long so I split it into two. Noelle's birthday is coming up!

.

The sun peeking lazily through the blinds of Santana's bedroom window pried Finn's eyes open. It took him a moment to figure out where he was. Judging by the soft purple curtains and zebra-print blankets he was wrapped up in, he was about ninety percent sure he wasn't in his own room. The sound of happy birds chirping, muffled outside the walls, made him groan as he brought a hand to his eye and rubbed it groggily.

As his vision slowly began to lose its blurriness, he realized he was laying on his bare stomach in Santana's bed, wrapped tightly in fluffy blankets he normally wouldn't have found this comfortable. He yawned and tried to move his arm, but realized something was stopping it. Lifting his head off the pillow slightly, he turned it and realized he wasn't the only one awake.

Santana lay beside him, his huge bear arm draped carelessly over the covers that rested on her stomach. Something he noticed about the way she was staring up at the ceiling made him bite his lip; She didn't look regretful or frustrated. Granted, she didn't exactly look _happy, either. She just seemed so… content. He closed his eyes for a minute to take all of this in, but was soon interrupted._

"We are so fucked up." He heard a tiny, hoarse voice say with a slight laugh.

He opened his eyes and stared at the side of her face for a moment, then laughed himself. "Yep." He agreed, popping his lips.

Santana laughed quietly and scooted further down in her bed, giving Finn an opportunity to retract his arm. He tried to move to lay on his back, but when his shoulder blades meshed together, a few small sharp pains settled him. "What the hell?" he muttered, peeking over his shoulder slightly.

Santana burst into a fit of laughter, running a hand tiredly over her forehead. "Sorry 'bout that."

He grimaced, "Why does it burn so bad? Damn." He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand up to his face, analyzing her manicured fingernails. "I'm making you an appointment to get these things trimmed."

She rolled her eyes playfully, laughing, as she slowly rolled onto his back, pressing her lips against every vivid red scratch she'd managed to imprint on his skin throughout the night. "Mm," she hummed, grazing her tongue gently against the tiny red marks.

Finn felt his eyes close slowly and goose bumps rise up on his skin, and he sighed when she muttered, "Does that feel better?"

He groaned and rolled over, capturing her in his arms. He placed a small kiss on her forehead and she smiled with a tiny sigh. She was comfortable and happy and she'd be _damned if he was gonna ruin it with cheesiness._

But what did he do?

"I love you," he whispered, pushing his lips against the top of her head as his hand slid up and down her back.

He hadn't expected her to say it back, so you could imagine his astonishment when she wove her fingers in his matted hair and muttered acceptance, "I love you."

He stared down at her for a moment, attempting to gather up in his head what had just happened. Where he fucking was. Naked, cuddled, in Santana's bed, both their bodies sweaty and stuck together. How had he even gotten there? The entire night was fuzzy. All he could recall was hearing tiny whimpers echo from Santana whenever his thrusts would push her harder against the wall, how painful the texture of the wall pattern must have felt scratching at her back. It felt rough and cold enough under his hand as he clung to it for balance. He could remember hearing her pant his name, her eyes closed tightly, head thrown back against the wall. He could remember feeling himself expanding within her, her walls contracting around him, making him stutter his breath into her ear.

He could remember how salty her skin tasted against his tongue, how whenever he'd hit _that certain spot she'd dig her nails so roughly into his back she'd draw blood. He remembered how good her body felt shaking in his hold – against his – as she cried out his name, running her tiny hands up and down his torso._

"Finn." She whined, "_Finn!"_

"Huh? Oh!" he cleared his throat, realizing he'd gone too far in his memories. "S-sorry."

She laughed and he closed his eyes in shame as she pressed her lips against his chest, making tiny trails with her tongue down his abdomen. His reminiscing of the previous night had already caused a certain throbbing sensation between his thighs, but this – _this wasn't helping. He was surprised that, by the way she was moving against him – making it even worse, he'd add – she couldn't feel the effect she was having on him._

He brought his hand up to his face, biting his palm in protest. She was definitely going to have to stop or – _Oh, damn if she was not doing __that thing where she grazes her finger tips softly along his hip bone._

He felt a heavy breath leave his lungs and he grunted out, "_San."_

She lifted her head from his chest and peered up at him, an eyebrow raised. Did he want her to stop? She bit her lip, searching his eyes for something, which she quickly caught onto when he carefully changed his angle and felt himself brush against her arm. He groaned at this contact, which completely made it worse for him. Her eyes widened slightly and she let out a deep, hollow laugh.

She hadn't said another word and Finn's eyes were closed tightly shut so he didn't see her slip herself beneath the sheets. He hadn't realized she'd even moved until he felt something soft and wet against his pulsating length, causing his hips to jerk slightly at the abrupt contact. He bit his lip – holy _shit, it was her tongue._

"San."

She shook her head in protest, insisting he not speak. God, she was such a tease and she was _definitely going to pay for this later. She whispered something inaudible onto him and he shivered when he felt her warm breath hit his most sensitive area. He didn't even bother to ask what she'd said – he didn't really care – all he knew was that her hand was gripping his base, her tongue was tracing circles against his shaft while her thumb brushed over his tip and if she kept making __those noises, he was about to erupt all over her and he knew she probably wouldn't like that._

Or would she?

Santana had definitely taken on a new attitude in the past few hours. Not that he was complaining, because he nearly couldn't stand how sexy it was. Even now, with the sheets thrown to her back so he could see her, his hand gripping her hair to hold it out of the way as her entire mouth engulfed him, her eyes closed in concentration, he could barely restrain himself. He felt his hips buck up and he groaned with pleasure as it only pushed him further into her mouth. He watched as she opened her eyes, locking gazes with him, her cheeks becoming hollow as she sucked him off, grazing the area below his navel with her free hand. He stared down at her with a bitten lip, feeling his eyes wanting to tug into the back of his head.

When her tongue brushed against _that sensitive spot, his head fell back against the pillow with a low grunt and she smirked against him when she felt his warmth surge into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around him a few more times as he panted harshly, coming down from his orgasm. She lifted her head off him and sat back on her heels, staring at him seductively as she swiped her finger across the corner of her mouth, collecting the small sample of semen that was stranded there. She sucked her finger after swallowing the syrupy liquid and laid her body next to his, pulling the sheets up over him._

"Holy shit, San," he panted breathlessly, making her smirk.

She shrugged and lifted both hands in front of her face, picking aimlessly at her manicure. "I'm good, aren't I?"

He rolled his eyes playfully, chuckling at her cockiness, and grabbed her arm to pull her to him. He pressed his lips against hers softly, savoring her taste for a moment before moving his mouth to her jaw, peppering her skin with light, tiny kisses. She giggled hoarsely and brought her palm up to meet the back of his head, feeling his silky brown locks between her fingers as she closed her eyes.

Something about the way he held her like this, with both arms wrapped around her waist as though to arch her body into him, his mouth on her neck, his chest pressed tightly against hers, always made her a little crazy. And the little sound she made when he slowly grazed his hand down to her thigh, kneading the tight muscle there, caused a smirk to tug at his lips against her skin. She hated, absolutely _hated the way he made her act. She'd usually never let a guy take control of her. She never let Puck do that, why was it so different with Finn? Thoughts like these kept her from releasing her true feelings for him. Sure, she loved the guy, she'd just told him that. And he's the only one who can actually make her feel better, and the only one who knows all her secrets, and the only one who can make her scream __that way, and the only one who holds the title of 'Baby Daddy' to her._

But the way he cradled her in his arms when they slept, _just slept, and the way he whispered her name in his sleep, and the way he'd give the top of her head tiny, soft kisses every time she'd squirm in his arms let her know that maybe it wasn't __so different. Maybe it wasn't all of a sudden, these feelings happening. Maybe they'd been there all along, it'd just taken her until the previous night to realize._

She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous that sounded. _Yeah, Finn. Yeah, no, I won't find out I love you until you fuck me relentlessly against the wall in my living room while I'm screaming at you how much I hate you and you're screaming at me how much of a bitch I am and we're this close to coming but we're too busy yelling at each other about who's gonna come first that we can't even enjoy the moment. But it's okay, 'cause in the morning we'll wake up and pretend we didn't just have totally hot hate sex and I'll tell you I love you after you say you love me and me you and Noelle will live happily ever after._

Oh yeah. That totally made sense. And she'd be worried about this if it weren't for the fact that his tongue was sliding around her inner thigh and she was gasping and biting her lip and arching her back and wanting him _so bad that she couldn't even deal with her thoughts. And the way he was gripping her knee for leverage as he pushed her legs further apart and let his teeth graze her silky, tanned skin as he felt her heat radiating from her core made her want to cry. She'd teased him, so she knew this was only fair but if he kept doing __that thing with his bottom lip they were definitely gonna have a problem._

He got the hint when she let out a whine of disapproval and gripped a clump of his hair at the back of his head in her fist, tugging on it slightly as her back arched off the mattress. "Finn," she whined, digging her nails into his scalp. He smirked loosely against her leg and peppered little pecks of kisses up and down her thigh, stopping at several points to leave small bites. He grinned as he brushed his finger tips over the little trails of saliva he'd made that covered slowly-forming purple bruises. "You're so beautiful like this." He kissed the small love bites he'd made and she whined _again, each one a little more desperate than the last, and he took the hint as her fist gripped his hair even tighter._

"So needy." He muttered before finally letting his tongue settle on her center, licking small lines up and down her core. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and was secretly making mental notes on ways to kill him later for teasing her like that.

It was a game now, she'd come to realize: The louder she'd scream, the harder he'd push his tongue against her. The more her body shook, the faster his finger would pump into her. She wasn't going to pretend she wasn't enjoying this little game, however. And he knew that, by the way she was panting and sighing and crying out and biting her lip and furrowing her eyebrows and gripping the sheets with one hand, his hair with the other.

She felt his hand grip her knee even tighter as she neared her climax, her hand leaving the back of his head to fall limp at her side.

She breathed out several nearly incoherent profanities while her head lifted off the pillow to look down at him, all concentrated between her legs, his hair a mess from her intense grip, his eyes closed to focus on what he was doing. She would have smiled at how adorable he looked if he hadn't just flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit, making her eyes roll into the back of her head and her body fall limp against the bed. She gasped and furrowed her brows and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she came to his name, feeling her toes curl against the white sheets.

Her chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm while he crawled back up to her, trailing small kisses up her abdomen on his way. She smiled up at him and wrinkled her nose when he hovered over her, and he kissed her gently, leaving a bit of her own taste on her lips.

"I guess we're even now."

.


End file.
